;.IBRARY 
MIYIRSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA^/ 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 


BY 
WILL   PAYNE 


"And  when  love  speaks,  the  voice  of  all  the  gods 
Makes  heaven  drowsy  with  the  harmony." 

—  Love's  Labour's  Lost. 


gorfc 
THE  MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1906 

All  rights  reserved 


LOAN  STACK 


COPYRIGHT,  1906, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  November,  1906. 


NortoooO 

J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


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WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 


924 


WHEN"  LOVE  SPEAKS 


CHAPTER  I 

SAUGANAC,  as  doubtless  every  one  knows,  lies  at 
the  mouth  of  the  river  of  that  name,  on  the  east 
shore  of  Lake  Michigan,  a  day's  ride  by  boat  from 
Chicago.  Stoves,  lumber,  and  patent  medicines  are 
its  best-known  products,  and  it  contains  some 
seventy-five  thousand  souls.  The  town  is  built 
mainly  around  the  foot  of  a  long,  wooded  bluff  that 
flanks  the  river;  but  the  manufactories  are  mostly 
on  the  other,  or  north,  side  of  the  stream.  From 
that  bank  at  night  the  moons  of  the  arc  street- 
lamps  and  lighted  windows  of  dwellings  showing 
through  the  leafy  screen  of  the  wooded  bluff  make 
a  pretty  sight  —  to  which  head  lamps  of  gliding 
trolley  cars  and  ogre  eyes  of  rushing  automobiles 
up  on  Overlook  Boulevard  lend  an  attractively 
theatric  touch. 

The  town  looks  prosperous.  In  the  business  sec 
tion  the  streets  are  paved  with  brick ;  in  the  better 
residence  districts,  with  asphalt,  or  macadamized. 
Along  Overlook  Boulevard  are  residences  which,  in 
various  architectural  modes,  show  that  the  fresh- 


2  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

water  port  has,  in  its  half-century,  produced  its 
share  of  wealth  and  social  selection.  Down  town, 
the  First  National  Bank  Building  is  eleven  stories 
high,  and  has  a  marble  rotunda  with  a  gilded 
frieze. 

Of  course  there  is  the  other  side.  To  the  south 
of  the  bluff  —  especially  near  the  shore,  on  Fish, 
Dock,  and  Lake  streets  —  the  view  is  rather  dis 
mal.  Wooden  block  pavement,  put  in  long  ago 
with  too  scant  foundations  and  too  little  of  every 
thing  except  graft,  has  gone  to  wreck.  Along  the 
ruined  curb  are  mud-puddles  in  which  broken  pieces 
of  the  pavement  forlornly  float.  The  plank  side 
walks  sag. 

Number  412  Lake  Street  was  once  a  dwelling  of 
some  pretensions.  It  has  a  basement  —  long  dis 
used.  A  pair  of  stairs  with  an  iron  rail  leads  from 
the  street  up  to  a  front  door,  once  black,  with  an 
urn  and  a  dropsical  dove  in  each  panel  of  frosted 
glass.  A  mansard  roof  forms  the  second  story,  and 
gives  the  appearance  of  an  uncannily  swollen  head. 
Two  square  windows  in  this  upper  story  look  like 
eyes  unpleasantly  set  in  the  midst  of  the  bulging 
brow. 

One  warm  September  evening  a  light  shone  against 
the  cracked  green  paper  shade  of  the  south  window. 
In  the  bare  sleeping  room  within  a  suit-case  lay  open 
on  the  bed.  A  well-made  young  woman  was  taking 
things  out  of  the  wobbly  bureau  and  packing  them 
in  the  suit-case  with  a  decisive  vigor  which  betrayed 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  3 

temper.  She  was  handsome,  but  perhaps  not  just 
in  the  way  a  proper  young  lady  would  choose.  Her 
large,  dark  eyes  under  nearly  straight  brows  might 
have  been  called  bold.  There  was  a  militant  sug 
gestion  in  the  set  of  her  fine  shoulders. 

Occupying  the  only  chair  in  the  room  —  a  weak- 
backed  willow  rocker  —  Mr.  Harris  Doane  watched 
her  vigorous  movements.  He  was  her  brother-in- 
law  —  unless  his  wife,  during  the  last  five  years, 
had  secured  a  divorce  somewhere  out  West,  which 
Doane  disinterestedly  considered  probable.  He  was 
still  a  youngish  man  in  appearance,  strongly  built, 
but  rather  fat.  He  wore  a  small  mustache,  jauntily 
twisted  up  at  the  ends.  Puffy  lids  drooped  over  his 
brown  and  slightly  bloodshot  eyes.  He  made  it  a 
point  to  have  everything  about  his  apparel  as  ex 
pensive  and  genteel  as  possible.  Even  the  heavy 
revolver  in  his  hip  pocket  was  pearl-handled,  and 
cost  eighteen  dollars. 

"You  always  was  a  fool,  Fan,"  he  observed. 

"I  was  a  fool  to  have  anything  to  do  with  you," 
Fanny  retorted.  "I  might  have  known  it  was  a 
crooked  game,  or  you  wouldn't  be  in  it."  She  lifted 
her  handsome  head  angrily.  "I  did  know  it  was  a 
crooked  game.  I  knew  it  at  the  start!" 

"Well,  what's  got  you  sore  on  it  then?"  he 
asked. 

She  folded  the  shirt-waist  and  laid  it  in  the  suit 
case  without  replying.  She  knew  of  old  that  he 
could  not  understand. 


4  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

Some  four  weeks  before,  being  in  quest  of  employ 
ment,  she  had  unluckily  encountered  her  resourceful 
relative  and  he  had  offered  her  a  job.  The  generous 
lure  of  twenty-five  dollars  a  week  tempted  her  sorely. 
The  job  was  conducting  what  Doane  fancifully 
named  The  Golden  Horn  Assurance  Reserve  In 
vestment  Bond  Corporation.  She  had  nothing  to 
do  but  send  out  what  he  called  the  "dope,"  and  turn 
over  to  him,  on  his  semi-weekly  visits,  the  accumu 
lated  letters  containing  one-dollar  bills.  She  knew 
it  was  a  kind  of  fake,  swindling  policy  game. 

"The  suckers  are  simply  bound  to  lose  their 
money  anyhow,"  he  now  philosophized,  in  answer 
to  her  unspoken  scruples.  "You  couldn't  nail  it 
to  'em  with  railroad  spikes  so's  they'd  keep  it.  It's 
real  kindness  to  take  it  away  from  'em  with  neatness 
and  despatch.  I  been  in  a  lot  of  these  games  first 
and  last.  First  I  used  to  set  up  nights  and  hire  a 
lawyer  to  fix  a  scheme  that'd  look  good.  Gawd ! 
I  wish  I  had  the  money  I've  paid  Wes  Wogan  for 
fixin'  'em  up  legal." 

"Much  good  the  money  did  that  drunkard!"  she 
commented. 

"Wes  Wogan's  the  best  lawyer  in  Mission  County 
if  he'd  cut  out  the  booze,"  Doane  replied.  "But 
fixing  up  pretty  schemes  is  no  good.  Any  old  scheme 
will  do.  The  suckers  simply  got  to  lose  their  dough 
or  they'd  drop  dead.  You're  a  sucker  yourself, 
Fan."  He  grinned  humorously.  "Gawd!  I  ought 
to  sell  you  a  Golden  Horn  bond !" 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  5 

"Maybe  I'm  a  sucker,"  she  replied  darkly;  "but 
you  ain't  as  smart  as  you  think  you  are.  You'll 
wind  up  in  jail  if  you  don't  clear  out  of  here." 

"Aw,  come  off!"  he  replied  with  some  irritation. 
"What  you  getting  back  to  that  rot  for?  Suppose 
I  could  have  run  here  a  month  if  I  hadn't  seen  the 
police?  They've  had  their  share  good  and  plenty, 
I  tell  you." 

"All  the  same,  you  ain't  as  smart  as  you  think 
you  are,"  she  iterated  stubbornly.  "I  suppose  you 
have  seen  the  police.  But  you  grafters  ain't  going 
to  have  your  own  way  much  longer.  There's  men 
you  can't  buy." 

He  regarded  her  speculatively  a  moment.  "I 
suppose  you  mean  that  duck  Holmes,  the  reform 
prosecuting  attorney.  Why,  he's  the  biggest  sucker 
going.  Gawd  !  I  ought  to  sell  him  a  bond  !" 

"You  can't  buy  him,  just  the  same  !"  she  declared 
significantly. 

Her  oracular  manner  excited  his  curiosity.  As 
she  lifted  some  things  out  of  the  bureau  drawer  he 
studied  her  back  thoughtfully,  and  found  the  clew 
he  sought.  "You've  been  up  to  see  his  wife  !  Little 
Kittie  Donovan  !  So  that's  what's  eating  you  !" 

She  looked  over  her  shoulder,  flushing  angrily.  "I 
have  been  to  see  Kittie !  It's  to  her  house  I'm 
going  in  the  morning.  So  there!" 

Reflecting  upon  this  new  phase,  he  saw  her  take  a 
well-worn  jacket  from  the  drawer,  unfold  it,  and  ex 
tract  from  the  inner  pocket  an  odd-looking  envelope, 


6  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

of  large  letter-size,  tied  up  with  a  faded  red  ribbon. 
The  envelope  appeared  old,  and  he  noticed,  with  a 
sort  of  professional  interest,  that  she  laid  it  on 
a  corner  of  the  bureau  before  walking  over  to  the 
bed  with  an  armful  of  wearing  gear. 

"It  don't  mean  anything  to  you,  Harris  Doane," 
she  said,  "but  I've  been  a  square  woman  all  my 
life." 

"Gawd  !  I  wish  it  run  in  the  family  !"  he  observed. 

She  ignored  this  delicate  reference  to  her  sister. 
"I've  supported  myself  since  I  was  twelve  years  old, 
and  worked  like  a  dog  to  do  it,  too.  I  never  did  any 
thing  crooked  before.  And  if  you  know  when  you're 
well  off,  you'll  clear  out/'  she  concluded  somewhat 
inconsequentially. 

"You  don't  mean  you'll  give  me  away?"  he  de 
manded. 

Again  she  turned  duskily  red.  "You're  just  a 
dog  !  You  don't  know  what  it  is  to  be  square  !" 

Her  opinion  of  his  character  seemed  not  to  interest 
him ;  but  he  ran  his  stout  white  fingers  through  his 
pompadour  reflectively.  "Clear  out  it  is,  then,"  he 
said  coolly.  "Get  out  the  dope  and  we'll  burn  it." 

"Do  you  mean  it,  Harris?"  she  cried  with  a  note 
of  pleasure. 

"What  else  is  there  to  do?"  he  answered  rather 
sullenly.  "Get  out  the  dope." 

Her  eyes  still  showed  pleasure.  She  went 
promptly  to  the  wash-stand  and  lighted  a  half- 
burned  candle.  "I'll  do  it  in  two  minutes,"  she 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  7 

said.  He  did  not  reply ;  but  sat  running  his  fingers 
through  his  pompadour.  She  went  briskly  down 
stairs. 

The  "dope"  consisted  of  pamphlets  and  circular 
letters  describing  the  advantages  of  the  Golden 
Horn  Assurance  Reserve  Bond  Investment  Corpora 
tion,  and  these  comprised  the  only  tangible  assets 
of  that  concern.  There  was  no  need  of  bookkeep 
ing.  Whatever  money  came  in  Doane  pocketed. 
Closing  the  dining-room  doors,  to  prevent  a  light 
showing  from  the  street,  Fanny  put  an  armload  of 
the  dope  in  the  grate  and  applied  her  candle.  Then 
a  belated  suspicion  crossed  her  mind.  She  ran  noise 
lessly  upstairs  and  applied  her  eye  to  the  crack  of 
the  half-open  bedroom  door. 

Mr.  Doane  stood  by  the  bureau.  In  one  hand  he 
held  a  large  letter-size  envelope,  curiously  old- 
looking,  a  piece  of  faded  red  ribbon,  and  a  small 
packet  of  sheathless  letters.  The  other  hand  held 
one  of  the  letters  open,  and  he  was  reading  it  with 
much  amusement.  Fanny  flew  in. 

"You  dirty  dog!  You  miserable  sneak-thief!" 
she  cried,  and  sought  to  seize  the  letters. 

He  had  time  to  whip  them  behind  his  back,  and, 
half-turning,  obtrude  a  defensive  shoulder  to  her 
assault.  Her  feminine  fury  simply  heightened  his 
amusement. 

"Tell  me  whose  they  are,  Fan,  and  I'll  give  them 
up,"  he  said,  gasping  with  merriment  and  fending 
as  well  as  he  could  with  his  shoulder. 


8  WHEN  LOVE   SPEAKS 

She  stopped  her  ineffectual  clawing  for  the  let 
ters.  "They're  my  mother's,"  she  panted,  her  face 
aflame. 

Doane  could  hardly  contain  himself.  "I  knew 
it!"  he  gasped.  "The  old  girl's!  Then  they're 
from  Fred  Hasbrook  !  I  remember  about  it !  Haw  ! 
Haw!"  Tears  ran  from  his  eyes.  "The  old  girl  and 
Freddy !  '  Oh,  my  beloved  ! '  And  '  Her  shining 
eyes ! '  Gawd !  I  always  said  the  left  one  was 
glass!  That's  shiny  enough!" 

For  all  his  well-nigh  uncontrollable  mirth  he  no 
ticed  that  the  flush  on  her  face  was  succeeded  by 
pallor;  her  eyes  glittered;  her  lower  lip  protruded 
slightly;  and  she  balled  her  right  hand  into  a  very 
efficient-looking  fist.  Instincts,  born  of  many  ex 
periences,  warned  him  that  his  position,  with  his 
hands  behind  his  back,  was  a  poor  one  strategetically, 
and  that  he  was  about  to  receive  a  punch  on  the 
nose  propelled  by  all  the  vigor  of  an  arm  nearly  as 
muscular  as  his  own.  He  promptly  produced  the 
letters. 

"Don't  get  excited,  Fan,"  he  said  mollifyingly. 
"Gawd!  You  ain't  got  any  sense  of  humor!"  He 
wiped  the  tears  from  his  eyes. 

Her  fingers  trembled  as  she  refolded  the  letter  he 
had  opened,  replaced  them  all  in  the  old  envelope, 
and  retied  it  with  the  red  ribbon.  For  a  very  inter 
esting  moment  Doane  wondered  whether  she  was 
going  to  notice  the  absence  of  the  one  which  — 
mostly  as  a  mere  matter  of  professional  pride  —  he 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  9 

had  put  up  his  sleeve  while  his  hands  were  behind 
his  back.  Evidently  she  wasn't  —  which  height 
ened  his  amusement  as  he  followed  her  down-stairs. 

They  worked  silently  —  Doane  still  with  mirth- 
moistened  eyes  —  conveying  the  dope  to  the  grate. 
Then  she  straightened  up  abruptly,  listening. 

"  There's  somebody  at  the  back  door,"  she  said 
under  her  breath. 

He  followed  her  as  she  stole  to  the  dark  kitchen, 
softly  lifted  a  corner  of  the  window  shade,  and  peered 
out.  Then  she  ran  to  the  door  and  opened  it. 

Doane  heard  a  mellow,  low-pitched  old  voice 
saying :  "  Yes'm,  Miss  Fanny.  It's  from  Miss  Kittie, 
to  be  read  right  off  sharp.  She  say,  'Don'  wait  a 
minute  f er  nothin' ! ' ' 

Naturally,  when  Fanny  hurried  to  the  lighted  din 
ing  room,  Doane  followed.  He  saw  her  tear  the 
square,  cream-colored  envelope,  and  snatch  forth  a 
note. 

"It's  a  raid!  The  sheriff's  coming!"  She  spoke 
it  breathlessly,  with  wide,  fear-stricken  eyes. 

"Rats!"  said  Doane,  incredulously. 

"It  is  !  It  is  !  See  !"  she  held  out  the  note,  her 
eyes  burning  with  excitement. 

The  note  said:  "Endicott  will  raid  your  place  at 
eight.  Don't  wait  a  minute."  It  was  signed  with 
the  letter  K. 

"Quick!  It's  almost  that !  I'll  get  my  suit-case !" 
she  gasped,  and  ran  headlong  for  the  stairs. 

A  minute  later  when  she  came  flying  down,  her 


10  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

suit-case  in  one  hand,  her  hat  in  the  other,  the  flames 
were  dancing  merrily  over  the  last  of  the  dope. 

" Follow  me,"  said  Doane,  businesslike. 

" Harris!     Give  me  Kittie's  note!"  she  said. 

"I  chucked  it  in  the  fire,"  he  answered,  and  slipped 
into  the  kitchen. 

As  she  followed  him  she  knew  he  was  lying,  and 
wished  to  say  more ;  but  her  heart  was  pounding  at 
the  base  of  her  throat;  there  was  a  rushing  in  her 
head.  She  felt,  rather  than  saw,  that  he  took  the 
revolver  from  his  hip  pocket ;  and  she  had  a  sort  of 
sickening  sense  of  him  as  a  big,  bloody  cat,  as  he 
stepped  softly  to  the  curtain  and  peered  out.  She 
heard  his  tense  whisper,  " Here's  a  man;  run  like 
hell!" 

He  flung  the  door  open,  leapt,  and  hammered  fu 
riously  with  the  butt  of  his  revolver.  She  knew  he 
was  upon  the  man ;  vaguely  heard  the  impact  of  the 
blows ;  and  ran  with  all  her  might.  She  half  tumbled 
down  the  back  stairs ;  staggered  on,  gaining  her  feet ; 
and  raced  blindly  up  the  alley,  clutching  her  suit 
case. 

Some  three  hours  later  she  made  her  way  out  of  a 
brushy  wood  upon  a  road.  She  had  lost  her  hat  in 
the  tumble  down  the  stairs;  but  still  clutched  the 
suit-case.  Down  below  she  saw  the  vague  shining 
of  the  river  in  the  dark.  Something  in  her  desperate 
mind  had  been  driving  her  on  toward  it.  She  was 
weary,  torn,  bedraggled;  and  she  presently  paused 
a  moment  by  the  roadside  to  get  her  bearings. 


WHEN  LOVE   SPEAKS  11 

Dimly  outlined  against  the  sky  above  her  were  the 
tops  of  three  giant  pines.  Then  she  made  out  the 
tall,  iron  fence.  She  stretched  out  her  hand  and 
touched  it.  In  a  moment  she  discerned  the  bulk  of 
a  house  back  among  the  trees. 

She  was  in  front  of  the  Hasbrook  place.  She 
could  not  tell  what  the  hot  and  deadly  bitter  emo 
tion  was  that  rushed  over  her.  She  crossed  the  road 
to  the  river  side,  swung  her  suit-case  and  hurled  it 
far  out,  and  heard  it  light  in  the  underbrush  near  the 
foot  of  the  bluff.  Throwing  away  the  suit-case  was 
some  way  conclusive.  She  was  not  going  to  the 
river.  So  she  sat  down  on  the  grassy  roadside  and 
wept,  heart-brokenly.  With  that  idea  of  the  river 
driving  her,  she  had  felt  a  certain  tragic  dignity. 
Now  she  was  utterly  forlorn  and  abased;  and  her 
sore-wounded  heart  turned  to  Kittie. 

She  knew  she  oughtn't  to  do  it.  She  had  made 
Kittie  trouble  enough.  But  when  that  great,  help 
less  ache  came  in  one's  breast,  one  must,  some  way, 
find  a  mother  lap. 

Two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  cold,  torn,  bedraggled, 
half-dead  with  fatigue,  she  slipped  in  at  the  alley 
gate  and  sat  down  on  a  box  by  Kittie  Holmes's  back 
fence.  When  it  began  to  lighten  a  little,  so  she  could 
see  the  outlines  of  the  house,  she  stole  to  the  stable 
door,  unlatched  it,  slipped  in,  and  hid  herself  behind 
the  stairs  leading  to  the  haymow  —  to  wait  for 
morning  and  whoever  should  discover  her. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  strengthening  daylight  presently  revealed 
the  newness  of  Holmes's  house.  The  mortar  be 
tween  the  trim  white  stones  of  the  foundation  was 
quite  fresh.  It  was  a  simple,  comfortable,  square 
frame  structure  with  a  wide  veranda  in  front. 
Holmes  had  built  it  that  summer  for  his  bride.  The 
lawn,  uptorn  in  building,  was  still  raw,  its  grass 
scant  and  patchy  as  a  youth's  beard.  It  stood  on 
the  corner  of  Orchard  and  Peach  streets  —  that  is, 
toward  the  southern  slope  of  the  plateau,  on  the 
opposite  side  from  fashionable  Overlook  Boulevard. 

The  advancing  sun  shone  strongest  upon  the 
southeast  corner,  and  presently  awoke  Holmes's 
sister.  She  opened  her  eyes  to  the  light,  with  her 
limbs  still  sensibly  full  of  the  drowsy  luxury  of 
sleep,  and  glanced  about  the  room.  She  had  arrived 
in  Sauganac,  after  more  than  a  year's  absence,  the 
afternoon  before,  so  she  had  a  certain  idling  delight 
in  looking  upon  the  strangeness  of  this  clean,  new 
room.  Then  her  rousing  brain  took  up  its  coil  with 
a  kind  of  shock.  To-day,  no  doubt,  she  would  see 
him.  What  would  he  demand  of  her?  What 
would  she  answer  ?  She  put  a  white  arm  above  her 
head  and  lay  still,  with  wide-open  blue  eyes,  thinking. 

12 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  13 

Her  brother  Winthrop  was  in  her  thoughts,  too; 
and  in  a  moment  she  remembered  something  else. 

At  the  dinner  table  her  brother  —  always  full  of 
his  office  —  had  told  her  and  Kittie  that  Sheriff 
Endicott  was  going  to  raid  a  swindling  policy  shop. 
He  believed  Mayor  Griess's  grafting  city  police  had 
been  in  collusion  with  it,  and  hoped  to  capture  some 
evidence  to  that  effect.  But  the  raid  had  been 
"tipped  off";  some  traitor  in  their  camp  had  given 
warning  of  it.  So  the  sharpers  had  time  to  burn 
their  papers  and  escape  —  by  a  hair's  breadth ;  inci 
dentally  half  murdering  Nesbit,  one  of  the  sheriff's 
deputies.  All  the  deputies  got,  besides  this  broken 
head,  was  a  woman's  hat.  The  treachery  in  his 
camp  had  fairly  daunted  Winthrop.  Louise  remem 
bered  how  gloomy  he  had  looked,  tramping  about 
his  study. 

It  had  cost  Winthrop  something  to  take  the  office 
of  prosecuting  attorney  for  Mission  County.  In 
spite  of  the  great  powers  with  which  the  statutes  in 
vested  it,  the  position  had  always  been  treated  as  a 
lesser  spoil  of  politics  —  going  to  some  promising 
youngster  whom  the  bosses  favored,  and  who  took 
it  as  a  young  doctor  takes  free  hospital  work.  The 
salary  was  only  eighteen  hundred  dollars  a  year. 
But  Winthrop  gave  practically  his  entire  time  to  it 
and  needed  all  his  modest  private  means  to  make 
ends  meet.  They  kept  only  Martha,  the  compe 
tent,  grumpy  maid-of-all-work,  and  old  Jefferson, 
who  had  followed  Kittie  from  her  father's  hotel  as 


14  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

a  dog  follows  its  master,  and  now  puttered  around 
the  grounds  and  stable.  To  Winthrop  the  office  was 
a  trust,  a  mission.  Thinking  of  the  miscreant  who 
had  betrayed  his  raid,  Louise's  blue  eyes  shone  with 
indignation.  Her  fine  straight  nose  and  roundly 
modelled  chin  gave  the  outline  of  a  classic  profile. 
She  wished  the  cowards  would  come  out  and  fight 
like  men.  Then  she  looked  at  her  watch  and  started 
up  guiltily  to  find  that  she  had,  after  all,  overslept. 

When  she  came  downstairs,  the  family  had  already 
eaten  its  early  breakfast,  and  Winthrop  had  left  to 
hark  on  the  chase  after  the  policy-shop  culprits. 
Martha  was  in  a  bad  temper. 

Afterward  Louise  could  not  tell  just  when  or  how 
it  was  that  morning  that  the  air  of  something  ex 
traordinary  about  the  house  obtruded  itself  upon 
her.  Martha  had  been  driven  down  cellar  to  unpack 
fruit-jars,  whither  she  had  gone  sputtering  protests 
against  that  intolerable  interference  with  her  fore 
noon's  routine.  The  cocker  spaniel  pup  had  started 
barking  and  been  suppressed.  There  was  a  voice  in 
Winthrop's  study,  which  was  on  the  left  of  the 
wide  hall  that  bisected  the  lower  floor.  Louise 
could  hardly  have  told,  at  the  moment,  just  why  she 
walked  over  and  opened  the  study  door. 

Kittie  sat  in  there,  holding  a  tray  from  which  a 
breakfast  had  evidently  been  eaten.  Beside  her  sat 
a  strange  young  woman.  As  Louise  entered,  her 
sister-in-law  looked  up. 

Mrs.  Holmes's  small  person  had  the  pretty  plump- 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  15 

ness  of  a  pigeon,  and  her  loose  morning  wrapper 
showed  the  tender,  round  lines  of  her  figure.  Her 
skin  was  milky  white  along  the  base  of  her  smooth 
neck,  but  tanned  and  somewhat  freckled  on  her 
cheeks  and  over  her  little  piquant  nose.  Her 
plump  arms,  bare  to  the  elbows,  and  small,  pretty 
hands,  and  the  little  white-slippered  foot  under  the 
edge  of  her  gown  helped  on  the  infantile  suggestion. 
A  big  wave  of  reddish  hair  rolled  back  from  her  fair, 
square  brow.  Her  eyes  had  the  hue  of  her  hair  — 
reddish,  or  golden  in  a  full  light.  She  looked  up  at 
Louise  undisturbed. 

The  strange  young  woman  was  handsome,  but 
not  exactly  in  the  way  a  young  woman  should  be. 
Her  big,  dark  eyes  were  heavy  now ;  her  face  pallid ; 
her  skirt  torn  and  bedraggled.  Her  abundant  hair 
was  badly  disordered  —  suggesting  the  loss  of  a  hat. 
She  had  just  drained  the  coffee  cup  which  she  still 
held  in  her  hand,  and  at  the  moment  Louise  stepped 
in,  she  was  looking  at  Kittie  with  a  queer,  wan  little 
smile  that  suggested  a  grateful  dog.  She  looked  up 
at  Miss  Holmes  with  a  dull  start. 

Louise  was  trying  to  shape  her  lips  to  murmur  a 
conventional  and  stupid  "  Pardon  me  !"  but  Kittie's 
clear,  sweet  voice  sounded,  tranquilly,  "You  re 
member  Fanny  Trescott,  don't  you,  Louise?"  And 
to  Fanny,  "  Louise  Holmes,  you  know.  My  sister, 
now." 

"Why,  so  she  is  your  sister,  now,"  said  Fanny,  with 
a  faint  glow  of  welcome  on  that  account. 


16  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

Altogether  it  was  cool  and  commonplace  as  an  in 
troduction  at  an  afternoon  tea.  Louise  had  a  sense 
of  being  in  a  ludicrous  position,  and  stood  by  the 
door,  undecided. 

Then,  as  though  she  were  continuing  a  tea-table 
topic,  Fanny  spoke  to  Kittie :  "  We'd  got  everything 
chucked  in  the  grate  before  they  came ;  and  Doane 
saw  one  of  'em  coming  up  to  the  back  door.  He 
jumped  on  him  and  cracked  him  over  the  head  with 
the  butt  of  his  revolver,  and  I  ran,  and  lost  my  hat. 
The  last  I  saw  of  Doane  he  was  hammering  the  man." 
She  dropped  back  in  the  chair  and  her  haggard  lips 
twitched.  "  Doane  knows  about  your  sending  the 
note.  It's  like  that,  Kitten  —  me  winding  up  by 
getting  you  into  trouble.  If  I'd  been  any  good  — 
if  I'd  had  any  sand,  I'd  gone  into  the  river." 

Kittie  answered  with  a  low,  clear  laugh:  "What 
good  would  that  have  done  anybody?  I'd  rather 
have  you  here  full  of  coffee.  We're  going  to  pull  it 
off."  She  laughed  again,  low.  "They  can't  stop 
two  unscrupulous  women  !  I've  sent  for  Davy,  too." 

Fanny  slowly  shook  her  head.  "You're  a  soft 
little  thing.  Your  mother  was,  too.  But  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  you  two  —  honest,  I  guess  God  has  you  for 
soldiers  to  fight  for  women  like  me."  Tears  silently 
overflowed  her  dark  eyes. 

"You've  got  to  fight  some  yourself,  Fanny," 
Kittie  replied  cheerily.  "We'll  carry  it  through!" 

"I  meant  —  I  meant  —  the  river,"  said  Fanny, 
not  much  above  a  whisper.  "That  would  have  been 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  17 

right.  I  made  for  it ;  but,  Kit-tie  —  when  I  came 
out  on  the  road,  I  was  there  in  front  of  the  Hasbrook 
place  —  the  place  looking  at  me  like  it  was  saying, 
'The  river  for  you/  —  and  I  wouldn't  —  some  way, 
I  couldn't"  — her  voice  trailed  into  silence. 

"Of  course  not!"  said  Kittle,  sharply.  "What 
good  would  that  have  done?  You've  got  to  rest  a 
little  now—" 

She  broke  off,  listening.  "There's  the  door-bell," 
she  exclaimed  with  an  eager  touch.  "It  must  be 
Davy.  Will  you  go,  Lou?" 

Martha  was  still  immured  in  the  cellar ;  and  with 
a  perfect  helplessness  Louise  found  herself  going 
down  the  hall  and  opening  the  front  door. 

The  man  who  stood  before  it  was  dressed  in  a 
loose  summer  suit  of  black  flannel,  and  held  a 
Panama  hat  in  his  hand.  He  looked  athletic.  His 
lean  and  smooth-shaven  face  was  tanned  an  even 
rich  Indian  red.  His  black  hair,  cut  rather  close 
over  his  round  head,  was  slightly  curly,  and  he  had 
the  large,  dark  gray  eyes  of  his  type  of  his  race. 

As  he  stepped  in  swiftly  his  eyes  lighted  up ;  a 
subtle  glow  came  to  his  tanned  face.  He  stood 
before  her,  bent  his  head  a  little  toward  her,  and 
breathed  her  nickname  —  "Loie?" — with  an  odd, 
intent  questioning.  Even  so,  her  nerves  felt  the 
tension  of  his  nerves,  as  though  he  were  about  to 
leap  and  strike. 

"In  the  study,  David.    They're  waiting  for  you," 
she  said. 


18  WHEN   LOVE    SPEAKS 

With  one  backward  look  he  sped  down  the  hall. 
She  vaguely  acknowledged  something  physically 
superb  in  the  way  he  went  through  the  door  —  with 
a  glide  as  light  and  swift  as  a  cat's ;  his  head  up,  his 
shoulders  square.  Almost  her  only  thought  at  the 
instant  was,  "Why,  he's  fit  and  hard  as  nails !" 

And  this  was  the  way  they  met  after  nearly  two 
years. 

She  stood  at  the  open  door.  It  was  perfectly 
clear  now  that  Kittie  had  given  warning  of  her  hus 
band's  raid ;  that  the  woman  in  there  was  one  of 
the  policy-shop  culprits  for  whom  Winthrop  was 
searching;  that  she  herself  was  standing  guard  at 
her  brother's  door  —  against  her  brother ! 

In  a  way  that  was  half  ridiculous  and  wholly  in 
tolerable  she  felt  herself  caught  in  the  toils  of  the 
plot.  Then  she  summoned  up  her  ample  will,  threw 
off  the  coil  bodily,  and  marched  upstairs  to  her  room. 
After  a  while  she  heard  sounds  which  told  her  that 
Kittie  had  brought  Fanny  upstairs  and  was  having 
her  lie  down.  At  luncheon  she  pleaded  a  headache 
and  had  Martha  bring  her  a  cup  of  tea.  She  did  not 
wish  to  meet  her  sister-in-law.  From  her  window, 
in  the  afternoon,  she  saw  David  drive  up  in  a  cab. 
He  entered  the  house  and  presently  came  out  with 
Fanny,  and  the  two  drove  away  together.  About 
four  o'clock  David  returned  alone. 

Louise  roused.  She  must  get  outdoors ;  have 
air  and  motion.  She  dressed  for  the  street  and  went 
down.  Stepping  out  on  the  veranda,  she  saw  David 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  19 

lounging  there  most  tranquilly,  and  smoking  a  cigar. 
Instantly  her  purpose  changed.  She  would  not  be 
afraid !  She  lifted  her  pretty  chin  and  marched  up 
to  him. 

"What  has  happened?'7    she  demanded. 

"Why,  it's  all  over/'  he  replied.  There  was  still 
an  anxious  questioning  in  his  eyes,  and  he  evidently 
wished  to  mollify  her.  "Fanny  is  headed  for  her 
job  in  the  sanitarium.  Doane  is  on  the  way  to 
Chicago.  There'll  be  no  more  trouble." 

She  sat  down  deliberately,  her  blue  eyes  looking 
squarely  into  his  with  a  meaning  which  the  little 
rosy  flush  upon  her  cheeks  emphasized.  Her  parasol 
lay  across  her  knees,  and  the  winged  hat  she  wore 
helped  on  the  suggestive  likeness  to  certain  armed 
statues.  ' '  David,  tell  me  exactly  what  you  have  done 
this  afternoon."  She  spoke  quietly,  and  even  that 
made  him  know  that,  in  a  way,  she  sat  in  judgment. 

He  resumed  his  seat  obediently,  and  studied  the 
crown  of  his  hat  a  moment.  "Exactly  what  I've 
done,  Lou?"  he  said  rather  low.  "Well,  first,  I 
telephoned  for  Mitchell  and  Kennedy.  They're  the 
plain-clothes  men  —  the  detectives  at  police  head 
quarters.  Of  course,  Doane  would  have  been  pay 
ing  graft  to  somebody,  and  Mitchell  and  Kennedy 
would  naturally  be  the  ones  who  had  been  taking  it 
of  him.  So  they'd  be  most  likely  to  know  where  to 
find  him.  We  located  him  without  much  trouble. 
He  gave  up  Kittie's  note  at  once.  He'll  never  open 
his  head  to  bother  her." 


20  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

"Why  are  you  so  sure  about  that?'7  she  asked. 

Studying  his  hat-crown  a  moment,  he  did  not  an 
swer.  Then  he  said,  simply,  "I  suppose  he  knows  me." 

"You  mean  it's  because  he's  afraid  of  you,"  she 
said  uncompromisingly,  "afraid  you'll  thrash  him." 
She  plainly  meant  it  scornfully,  although  she  did  not 
exactly  know  what  set  her  on  to  badger  him. 

He  looked  up  then,  and  a  singular  shock  went 
through  her  as  she  met  his  eyes.  He  spoke  under 
his  breath,  slowly.  "Kittie  is  a  blessed  little  soldier, 
fighting  all  she  knows  to  save  that  woman.  Would 
I  let  a  blackguard  like  Doane  —  it's  not  a  bad  thing, 
Lou,  that  she's  got  a  wolf  for  a  brother." 

"But  what  about  Winthrop?  Suppose  I  find  it 
necessary  to  tell  him  what  has  happened?"  The 
passion  in  his  eyes  seemed  some  way  to  try  to  beat 
her  down,  and  she  asserted  herself  boldly  against  it. 

He  stared  at  her  an  instant.  Then  his  lips  bent 
in  a  small,  peculiar  smile,  and  he  slowly  shook  his 
head.  "Not  you,  Loie  !  I  might  have  believed  it 
if  I  hadn't  seen  you  again,  but  now  that  I've  seen 
you  I  know  better.  For  you're  just  the  same  — 
just  the  same  girl !" 

She  felt  her  defences  tremble.  "Not  just  the  same, 
David  !"  It  was  half  a  plea.  "No ;  not  the  same." 
She  arose  hastily. 

"Let  me  go,  too,  Lou."     He  stood  up. 

"No,  I  wish  to  be  alone,"  she  said  quickly;  and 
added,  with  a  swift  glance  as  she  raised  the  sunshade, 
"Not  now,  Davy." 


CHAPTER  III 

LOUISE  chose  Orchard  Street  for  her  walk  — 
simply  because  it  was  handiest  and  shady.  She 
had  begun  very  badly  —  not  at  all  as  she  had  meant. 

In  away  she  had  known  David  Donovan  all  her  life 
although  he  was  four  years  older.  As  a  grammar 
schoolgirl  she  had  had  a  consciousness  of  him  which 
was  rather  different  from  her  consciousness  of  any 
other  boy.  He  was  even  then  a  person  talked  about 
—  a  kind  of  celebrity  for  his  excellence  in  school 
athletics  and  for  certain  exploits  over  which  sober 
elders  shook  their  heads.  It  was  precisely  a  part 
of  her  peculiar  consciousness  of  him  that  she  knew 
he  was  a  boy  who  should  not  be  approved.  Sauganac 
was  democratic  enough;  yet  even  then  she  was 
aware  that  as  Dr.  Holmes's  daughter  she  was  com 
mitted  to  a  sphere  that  the  son  of  the  genial,  un 
educated  hotel-keeper  was  rather  outside  of.  On 
the  other  hand,  David  was  already  a  personage 
with  abundant  attentions  from  the  romantic  sex. 
He  was  in  the  high  school,  which  of  itself  placed  him 
in  a  caste  above  all  grammar  schoolgirls.  Yet  he, 
in  a  way,  distinguished  her  —  that  is,  he  always 
spoke  to  her  good-naturedly ;  once  in  a  while  walked 

beside  her;    in  short,  evidently  felt  friendly  to  her. 

21 


22  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

One  day,  when  her  dresses  came  no  lower  than  her 
shoe  tops,  she  had  stood  by  while  he  robbed  Mr. 
Epperson's  orchard  and  brought  her  a  hatful  of  the 
fruit.  She  knew  it  was  said  he  was  not  always  nice 
to  girls;  yet,  whenever,  in  his  Jovian  good-humor, 
he  noticed  her,  it  was  always  to  be  nice  to  her. 

After  the  high  school  he  went  to  the  state  uni 
versity  at  Ann  Arbor,  where  his  prowess  at  foot-ball 
soon  made  him  as  much  of  a  personage  as  he  had 
been  at  home.  She  went  to  the  seminary  at  Mount 
Honor.  During  the  year  he  sent  her  a  Michigan 
banner  to  tack  up  in  her  room.  It  was  only  in  the 
vacation  after  his  junior  year  that  they  again  saw 
much  of  each  other.  Then  he  paid  her  a  good  deal 
of  attention,  and  when  they  returned  to  their  schools, 
they  corresponded  —  rather  spasmodically  on  his 
part. 

She  went  to  Ann  Arbor  to  see  that  year's  great 
foot-ball  game  on  Thanksgiving  Day.  When  he 
broke  through  the  line  and  made  the  winning  touch 
down,  she  did  not  shriek  with  other  frantic  thousands 
in  the  grand  stand;  but  her  insanity  really  ex 
ceeded  theirs.  That  evening,  behind  some  potted 
palms,  he  kissed  her. 

She  was  then  seventeen  and  he  twenty-one.  Both 
her  parents  were  dead,  and  there  was  nobody  in 
particular  to  tell.  After  that  they  corresponded  as 
secretly  betrothed  lovers. 

David  began  life  in  the  power-house  of  the  street 
railway  about  the  time  she  went  to  Wellesley.  The 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  23 

vacations  of  her  first,  second,  and  third  year  she 
spent  in  Sauganac,  and  they  were  together  much, 
still  as  secretly  betrothed. 

Perhaps  that  kind  of  impassioned  championship 
of  her  slow,  sure  brother  Winthrop,  which  had  always 
been  a  part  of  her  life,  now  gave  a  certain  bent  to  her 
mind.  At  any  rate,  for  a  pretty  girl,  she  interested 
herself  a  good  deal  in  the  larger  political  problems 
which  so  much  absorbed  him.  She  even  looked  into 
law  with  an  idea  that  she  might  help  him.  She  had 
never  been  slipshod.  Far  back  she  had  not  taken 
the  view  that  David  did  of  Dennis  O'Neill,  the 
shrewd,  humorous,  personally  generous  boss  of 
Sauganac's  grafting  political  machine.  First  and 
last  she  had  had  a  good  deal  to  say  to  David  about 
Dennis  O'Neill. 

In  her  junior  year  she  happened  to  see  a  Detroit 
newspaper  which  contained  an  item  saying  that 
David  Donovan  had  been  arrested  for  helping  to 
steal  some  ballot-boxes.  She  wrote  to  Winthrop, 
who  did  not  know  her  real  interest  in  David.  Win 
throp  wrote  that  'twas  undoubtedly  true  that  David 
stole  the  ballot-boxes,  in  Dennis  O'Neill's  behalf; 
but  they  couldn't  convict  him.  She  wrote  to  David, 
then,  and  when  she  came  home  that  summer,  she 
talked  to  him  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  He  had  been 
contrite  enough.  In  her  senior  year  Winthrop  came 
down  to  see  her.  Among  other  things  he  told  her 
of  an  action  in  which  he  was  interested.  He  had 
some  evidence  that  the  distillers  at  Nogiac  had  put 


24  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

bribe  money  in  David  Donovan's  hands ;  but  David 
avoided  the  legal  mesh  and  could  not  be  brought  to 
testify. 

She  did  not  write  to  David  about  that.  She  had 
not  the  heart.  Neither  did  she  break  off  the  cor 
respondence  with  him ;  but  it  was  different  after 
that. 

Finishing  her  five-year  course,  she  went  abroad 
with  the  Penroses.  The  Penroses  were  the  most  im 
portant  family  of  Sauganac.  The  fortune  had  its 
beginnings  in  a  little  foundry.  Now  the  James  A. 
Penrose  Stove  Works  were  the  largest  in  the  world, 
as  they  constantly  reminded  the  public.  There  had 
been  some  very  profitable  deals  in  government  timber 
lands  —  of  which,  as  Louise  understood  it,  the  less 
said  the  better.  Latterly  there  had  been  Wall 
Street  and  railroad  operations,  to  say  nothing  of  Mrs. 
Penrose's  elaborate  social  campaigns.  The  family, 
in  fact,  had  far  outgrown  Sauganac,  and  seldom 
came  to  the  castle  on  Overlook  Boulevard.  Miss 
Holmes  did  not  know  exactly  why  Mrs.  Penrose 
was  ever  ready  to  take  her  up  as  much  as  she  would 
permit.  She  permitted  it  fully  enough  after  she 
left  school.  She  did  not  wish  to  go  back  to  Sauga 
nac  then. 

After  the  year  abroad,  however,  she  wished  to 
return  —  and  take  up  her  life  anew  at  the  age  of 
twenty-three.  Her  position  with  regard  to  David 
had  then  seemed  manageable  enough.  She  knew 
that  he  had  got  to  be  superintendent  of  the  street 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  25 

railway  —  probably  was  pretty  much  immersed  in 
money-making  and  inclining  to  grow  beefy. 

Her  walk  had  taken  her  up  on  Orchard  Street  to 
a  neighborhood  which  at  one  stage  of  the  city's 
growth  had  been  a  suburb  where  a  few  of  the  better 
sort  of  citizens  had  retired  homes.  Now  it  was 
largely  built  up  with  flats,  or  with  dwellings,  all 
about  alike,  which  contractors  had  put  up  to  sell  on 
the  instalment  plan. 

Louise  paused  before  a  place  which  still,  forlornly, 
kept  a  flavor  of  the  simpler  time.  The  grounds 
comprised  less  than  a  quarter  of  the  block  —  out  of 
the  original  fifteen  acres  —  and  were  now  unkempt. 
Grass  grew  rank  and  half  choked  the  old  rose-bushes. 
Three  gnarled  old  apple  trees  by  the  corner  of  the 
house  were  nearly  dead.  The  house  itself  was  merely 
an  upright  part  with  an  L,  having  a  narrow  porch, 
ballustraded  and  ornamented  with  fretsaw  work. 

This  had  been  her  home,  built  by  her  father  —  a 
notable  physician  in  his  day.  It  was  by  the  accident 
of  the  city's  growth,  making  the  fifteen  acres  of  land 
valuable,  rather  than  by  any  thrift  in  Dr.  Holmes's 
management,  that  he  had  finally  left  his  children  a 
little  competency.  Probably,  if  he  had  lived  longer, 
with  his  constitutional  carelessness  of  money,  he 
would  have  sold  off  the  land  and  made  ducks  and 
drakes  of  the  proceeds.  Nevertheless,  Dr.  Holmes 
stood  for  something.  In  his  sort  he  was  the  most 
thrifty  of  men.  He  might  have  made  ducks  and 
drakes  of  his  land,  but  they  would  have  been  fowls 


26  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

of  a  big-hearted  and  ardent-headed  breed.  He  had 
fairly  dragooned  his  richest  patients  into  founding 
the  free  hospital. 

From  time  to  time  negotiations  for  the  sale  of  this 
remnant  of  the  old  homestead  had  been  under  way. 
It  was  unproductive,  and  should  be  sold.  Louise 
knew  that ;  yet  she  looked  across  the  rank  lawn  with 
a  home-hungry  pang.  A  certain  tradition  of  fine 
and  generous  living  attached  to  it,  and  this  tradition 
some  way  enfolded  her  from  David  Donovan. 

David's  own  traditions  were  different.  More  than 
once  she  had  called  him  a  red  Indian.  He  met  the 
world  gayly,  with  a  ready,  practical,  undelicate  com 
petence.  He  should  belong  more  to  Dennis  O'Neill's 
sort  than  to  hers.  He  was  a  man  who  would  not 
always  necessarily  be  nice  to  women.  Thus  he  had 
had  plenty  of  opportunities  to  betray  himself,  and 
so  release  her.  He  had  first  kissed  her  in  a  corner 
like  a  flirting  shop-girl.  He  might  have  attempted 
the  footing  of  a  shop-girl  flirtation,  but  he  had  not 
at  all.  He  might  have  laughed  at  her  scruples  over 
the  ballot-box  exploit ;  but  he  had  been  humble  and 
penitent  over  them.  He  might,  latterly,  have  light- 
heartedly  dropped  her  and  taken  up  with  somebody 
else ;  but  he  had  not.  Her  red  Indian  was  constant. 
He  kept  offering  himself  to  her.  Traditions  were 
very  well;  but  her  heart  could  not  get  over  this 
constancy. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  veranda  was  empty  when  Louise  returned 
to  the  house.  She  stepped  inside,  saw  that  her 
brother's  study  door  was  open,  and  went  to  it  with 
out  waiting  to  take  off  her  hat. 

Kittie,  in  a  soft,  cream-colored  dress,  was  standing 
by  the  end  of  the  big  desk,  stooping  a  little,  dimpled 
with  laughter.  "You  are  falling  off,  Johnny/'  she 
was  saying,  in  her  clear,  sweet  voice.  "It's  sev 
eral  days  now  since  you've  got  any  heads  of  large 
families  on  the  strait  and  narrow  path  to  jail.  It'll 
never  do  !  Why  don't  you  go  jump  on  the  old  apple 
woman  at  the  corner?" 

A  masculine  voice  grumbled  back,  "I  ought  to 
have  you  and  all  your  blarneying,  soft-hearted 
family  in  jail !" 

Louise  blushed  and  dropped  back  from  the  open 
door  as  she  perceived  two  stout  hands  reached  out. 
She  had  been  surprised  enough  when  Winthrop 
wrote  her  that  he  was  going  to  marry  Kittie  Dono 
van.  The  letter  reached  her  in  Rome  while  she  was 
still  aflame  with  the  news  that,  leading  his  forces  of 
reform,  he  had  won  the  office  of  prosecuting  attor 
ney.  She  had  reflected  that  Kittie,  at  any  rate,  was 
a  sweet  little  thing.  She  had  imagined  her  sitting 

27 


28  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

dutifully  at  her  husband's  purposeful  feet.  But 
she  had  not  been  in  the  house  overnight  without 
awakening  to  the  greater  surprise  that  Winthrop, 
in  fact,  was  at  his  wife's  feet. 

She  heard  Kittie  laughing  —  evidently  struggling 
against  a  pair  of  powerful  arms.  When  she  judged 
it  was  safe,  she  again  stepped  to  the  door.  Win- 
throp  saw  her  then. 

"Ah,  Loie!"  he  cried,  his  rather  heavy  face 
lighting. 

The  prosecuting  attorney  was  then  in  his  thir 
tieth  year.  He  was  of  big  mould,  heavy-limbed, 
with  hands  and  feet  unusually  large  even  for  a  man 
of  his  stature.  He'  was  bony,  not  fat.  His  head, 
too,  was  large,  the  brows  projecting  over  his  eyes, 
which  were  of  a  dark,  mottled  gray.  He  wore  a 
close-clipped  mustache.  Honesty  stamped  him. 
His  sister  had  been  away  so  long  and  had  returned  so 
recently  that  her  every  appearance  brought  her  newly 
home  to  him.  As  he  drew  her  by  the  hand  beside 
his  chair  and  looked  up  at  her,  smiling,  her  woman's 
jealous  heart  could  not  but  be  satisfied  on  the  great 
point  that  he  loved  her. 

Kittie  slipped  an  arm  around  her  waist  and  cried, 
"Let's  lock  her  up,  Johnny!  She  might  get  away 
again!"  Louise  knew  that  Kittie,  too,  wished  to 
love  her.  The  little  woman  laughed.  "Anyhow, 
we'll  feed  her  well."  With  that,  she  went  out  and 
left  them.  An  instant  before  Louise  had  wondered 
whether  Kittie  would  leave  them  together  —  she 
possessing  the  guilty  secret. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  29 

"Busy,  I  suppose,"  Louise  suggested,  and  sat  down 
with  a  little  smile  for  the  litter  on  his  opened  desk. 

She  knew  that  Winthrop's  mind  was  slow.  It  was 
only  by  hard  grinding  that  he  got  through  college 
and  won  his  law  degree.  Now  he  toiled  every  even 
ing  in  his  study  to  finish  work  that  a  quicker  man 
would  have  disposed  of  in  office  hours.  She  could 
imagine  a  sister  being  fond  of  a  nimble,  facile  brother, 
but  somehow  it  was  only  for  this  slow,  sure  old  Win- 
throp,  who  never  spared  himself  an  ounce,  that  one 
could  feel  quite  such  an  impassioned  championship. 
His  slowness  seemed  part  of  his  great  quality  —  the 
one,  she  thought,  that  really  marked  him  for  an  im 
portant  career  —  namely,  that  steel-bright,  impene 
trable  integrity  which  encased  him  like  a  flawless 
armor. 

"Oh,  yes.  There's  plenty  to  do/7  he  replied  good- 
naturedly.  "I'm  hoping  for  a  big  stroke."  She 
saw,  from  the  way  his  mottled  eyes  shone,  that  it 
was  something  unusual. 

"I  can  go  on  shutting  up  cheap  gambling  joints 
and  raiding  disorderly  beer  gardens,"  he  said. 
"That's  really  what  a  good  many  of  the  people  who 
backed  my  campaign  mean  by  reform.  They  don't 
want  any  important  business  interests  disturbed. 
The  County  Board  won't  give  me  an  appropriation 
big  enough  to  undertake  anything  really  importcant. 
They've  got  to  keep  taxes  down  or  they'll  be  un 
popular.  I've  found  out  well  enough  that  most  of 
the  rottenness  in  politics  runs  into  business  some- 


30  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

where  or  other.  The  worst  of  our  rottenness  here 
runs  straight  to  those  three  rich  distilleries  at  No- 
giac.  They're  always  bribing.  They've  had  their 
own  way  so  long  that  they  think  they  own  the  gov 
ernment.  They  do  own  part  of  it.  The  attorney- 
general  of  the  state  is  as  much  their  man  as  though 
they  paid  his  salary." 

He  folded  his  big  hands  together  and  smiled  a 
little.  "  Maybe  I  have  particular  reasons  for  not 
liking  them;  but  that  doesn't  affect  their  general 
hatefulness.  Of  course,  they  opposed  me  in  my 
campaign,  and  they  always  fight  with  mud.  Old 
Codley,  who  runs  their  crooked  law  and  crooked 
politics,  is  a  natural-born  blackguard.  He  can't 
help  it.  They  really  own  Julius  Brown's  Daily 
News  here ;  and  the  News  had  some  dirty  little 
squib  or  other  every  day  —  for  example,  Epperson 
was  treasurer  of  my  campaign  committee,  and  the 
News  ran  an  article,  pretending  to  be  laudatory, 
saying  that  my  father  got  up  the  formulas  for  Ep 
person's  patent  medicines.  They  wouldn't  attack 
Epperson  openly,  because  he's  too  rich  and  his 
medicine  advertisements  are  too  important.  But 
Julius  Brown  got  a  disreputable  lawyer,  Wesley 
Wogan  —  you  may  remember  him  —  to  make  some 
speeches  about  Epperson's  cocaine  and  whiskey 
dope. 

"Of  course,  that's  mostly  personal  and  ought  not 
to  count ;  but  it  shows  the  breed  they  are  of.  It's 
amazing  how  their  influence  ramifies,  too.  Tradger, 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  31 

you  know,  was  elected  coroner  on  the  same  ticket 
with  me.  I  thought  him  an  honest  man.  He'd 
been  in  office  only  a  month  when  a  girl  was  found 
dead  on  the  beach  near  a  bad  beer  garden.  She  was 
a  pretty,  light-headed  young  creature,  the  daughter 
of  a  laborer.  I  myself  got  evidence  that  young 
Schwartz  of  Nogiac  had  her  in  the  garden.  It 
wasn't  very  unlikely  that  she  had  been  drugged. 
I  supposed,  of  course,  there  would  be  an  investiga 
tion,  and  was  astonished  to  learn  that  Tradger  had 
impanelled  a  jury  in  the  evening,  brought  in  a  ver 
dict  of  suicide,  and  had  the  body  buried.  Then  I 
found  that  Codley  had  been  down  here  and  hushed 
the  whole  thing  up.  I  don't  know  now  what  in 
fluence  he  used  with  Tradger ;  but  it  was  sufficient. 
He  evidently  gave  the  girl's  father  some  money,  too, 
and  got  him  out  of  town.  So  there  was  nothing  to 
do — but  j  aw  Tradger.  He  said, '  Oh,  well,  she's  dead ; 
what  would  be  the  good  of  stirring  up  a  muss?' 
That  dead  girl,  flung  into  her  grave,  is  a  pretty  good 
symbol  of  what  those  Nogiac  fellows  are  doing  with 
our  laws.  Of  course,  there's  plenty  of  bribery  and 
loot,  too." 

Louise's  color  had  heightened  during  the  recital. 
Her  eyes  sparkled.  "  You're  going  to  pitch  into 
them?"  she  asked  with  a  half-breathless  eagerness. 

"I  can't  do  it  myself,  Loie,"  he  replied.  "I  can't 
lay  hold  of  the  money  or  the  time.  It's  a  great  big 
fight.  It  needs  somebody  with  ability  and  money 
and  courage.  Fred  Hasbrook  is  the  man.  I've 


32  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

been  working  at  him  for  two  months.  I  believe  he'll 
take  it  up." 

"Oh,  Frederick!  Really?"  she  cried,  as  though 
the  news  were  too  good  to  be  true. 

"He's  coming  home  Labor  Day.  I'll  see  him  again 
then.  I  believe  he'll  take  it  up.  If  he  does  — 
something  important  will  follow.  He's  the  man  for 
it." 

"Dear  old  Fred  !"  she  murmured ;  and  exclaimed, 
with  animation,  "Oh,  he  must!  He  shall!"  She 
laughed.  "I'll  stick  to  him  until  he  does.  I'm 
needing  a  job,  you  know  !" 

It  was,  in  a  way,  an  intimate  touch ;  and  he  bent 
his  big  body  forward  in  the  chair.  "You're  a  job 
in  yourself,  Loie,"  he  said.  "Being  fond  of  us  and 
letting  us  be  fond  of  you  is  enough  of  a  success  for 
anybody.  We  want  you  right  here." 

She  noticed  the  plural  pronoun,  and  smiled  a 
little.  "You  don't  need  me  now,  Winthrop." 

"More  than  ever  !"  he  declared  —  "just  because 
I'm  happy.  I  am  the  happiest  man  in  the  world. 
I  never  in  my  life  wanted  anybody  but  Kittle.  For 
a  long  while  it  didn't  seem  possible  that  she'd  want 
me  —  but  she  did  !" 

He  spoke  with  a  kind  of  reverence.  It  was  the 
only  thing  he  had  said  about  his  marriage  —  and  it 
was  enough,  for  it  laid  bare  to  her  his  simple, 
steadfast  heart.  After  that  —  whatever  Roman 
instants  she  may  have  had,  in  which  the  possibility 
of  a  disclosure  suggested  itself  to  her  indignant  mind 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  33 

—  she  saw  that  she  must,  in  a  manner,  be  of  the 
league  against  him. 

She  must  keep  the  league's  secret;  but  she  could 
not  content  herself  with  doing  simply  that.  Along 
in  the  evening,  Winthrop  being  still  busy  in  his 
study,  she  went  boldly  to  her  sister-in-law's  room. 
The  little  woman  had  slipped  on  a  loose  gown,  and 
whatever  was  soft  and  dear  and  babylike  in  her 
made  its  appeal.  Louise  sat  down  beside  her. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now,  Kittie?"  she 
asked,  as  one  takes  a  child  in  hand. 

"Nothing  at  all,"  Kittie  replied,  so  quietly  that 
it  surprised  the  other.  She  clasped  her  pretty 
hands  over  her  round  knee  and  was  evidently  per 
fectly  willing  to  talk  about  it. 

"Fanny's  sort  of  an  inheritance  from  my  mother," 
she  began  calmly.  "Maybe  you  remember  about 
her  mother  —  Nellie  Trescott,  who  used  to  keep  a 
millinery  store  here,  and  went  away,  and  her  husband 
got  a  divorce,  a  long,  long  time  ago.  They  said 
some  rich  man  figured  in  it.  There  was  an  older 
daughter,  who  wasn't  all  that  a  young  lady  should 
be.  Fanny  came  to  the  hotel  one  day  when  she  was 
twelve,  and  wanted  work.  She'd  run  away  from  a 
pious  aunt  who'd  taken  her  in.  It  seems  the  pious 
aunt  couldn't  forbear  making  moral  reflections  about 
Nellie  and  Jennie  Trescott.  Fanny  was  always  a 
handsome  girl.  When  she  got  a  bit  older  and  father 
put  her  in  the  dining  room,  a  travelling  man  squeezed 
her  hand  and  she  broke  a  plate  over  his  head. 


34  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

"I  hear  being  a  'good'  girl  doesn't  count  any 
more,  since  Ibsen  and  others  have  come  in;  but 
from  a  youngster  —  maybe  just  because  of  her 
mother  and  sister  —  she  had  a  kind  of  furious  instinct 
to  keep  her  womanhood  clean.  It's  part  of  my  job 
of  being  a  woman  to  stand  by  her.  She's  always 
getting  herself  in  a  muss.  She's  a  good  deal  of  a 
cat,  too.  The  only  way  she's  ever  known  to  pro 
tect  herself  was  to  spit  and  claw  —  and  she's  done 
it  like  fury.  Maybe  it's  no  credit  to  me,  nowadays, 
that  I've  been  a  'good'  woman.  But  from  away 
back  —  back  in  my  mother's  time  —  there's  some 
thing  that  will  always  make  me  stand  by  Fanny, 
and  fight  for  her  if  it's  necessary.  Probably  I'm 
something  of  a  cat  myself  at  bottom.  I  suppose 
there's  a  sort  of  ragged  edge  for  women  —  and  for 
everybody.  Because  Fanny  was  poor  and  foolish 
and  had  dubious  female  relatives,  she's  had  to  sort 
of  fight  her  way  along  the  edge.  Nobody  but  my 
mother  and  I  know  about  that  fight.  If  it  looks 
to  me  as  though  somebody  were  saying  of  Fanny, 
'She's  pretty  close  to  the  edge,  we'll  just  push  her 
over,'  I  have  to  hop  in  and  say,  'Now  try  whether 
you  can  push  me  over,  too.'  Perhaps  I  don't  make 
it  as  clear  as  I  might." 

"Oh,  yes!  That  part  is  clear,  Kittie !  I  under 
stand  that !  It's  dear  and  brave  and  generous  to 
wish  to  stand  by  that  unlucky  woman.  But  that 
doesn't  answer  the  policy-shop  question,  does  it?" 

"To  me  it  does,  Lou,"  Kittie  returned.     "The 


WHEN  LOVE   SPEAKS  35 

gentleman  that  ran  the  policy  shop  married  the  older 
sister.  It  would  be  exactly  like  poor,  blundering 
Fanny  to  fall  in  with  his  offer  of  a  job.  I  knew  she 
was  there  and  had  told  her  to  quit  it,  and  come  here 
in  the  morning.  Then  I  found  out  about  the  raid, 
and  sent  her  warning." 

"And  that,  Kittie  —  that  leaves  a  lie  between 
you  and  your  husband!" 

The  little  woman  looked  up  with  untroubled  eyes. 
" There  isn't  any  lie,"  she  said  calmly.  "I  couldn't 
have  gone  to  Winthrop  and  asked  him  to  let  Fanny 
off,  for  that  would  have  put  a  bad  spot  in  his  con 
science.  A  bad  spot  in  his  conscience  would  make 
a  small  man  of  him.  He  must  go  exactly  straight." 

"That's  true !  You  understand  it !  It's  his 
great  quality!"  Louise  exclaimed,  surprised  that 
Kittie  did  understand  so  well. 

"And  don't  you  see,"  the  clear  voice  replied,  "it 
would  have  been  just  as  much  against  my  conscience 
to  let  Fanny  be  sent  to  jail.  If  I  had  stood  aside 
and  not  saved  her,  I  would  have  been  a  smaller, 
meaner  woman  for  it.  I  know  what  you  mean, 
Lou  —  that  husband  and  wife  should  be  one.  But 
after  you're  married  yourself  I  think  you'll  change 
your  mind.  You  give  yourself  to  the  man,  to  love 
him  and  work  for  his  house  and  bear  his  children. 
But  there's  something  you  don't  give.  I  think  you'll 
see  that  you  ought  not  to  give  it  —  that  you'd  be 
cheap  if  you  did.  Something  that's  your  very  self  — 
call  it  your  soul  or  what  you  please.  'Thy  ways 


36  WHEN  LOVE   SPEAKS 

shall  be  my  ways  and  thy  people  my  people '  -  that's 
all  right.  But  not  'Thy  gods  shall  be  my  gods/  I 
can't  do  that.  It  would  take  away  all  I'm  really 
good  for.  Probably  my  gods  aren't  any  too  good 
citizens;  but  they  laugh  and  are  tender-hearted. 
What  would  I  do  with  Winthrop's  rocky  New  Eng 
land  gods?  They'd  say  in  a  minute,  ' What's  that 
lying  little  Irishwoman  doing  here?  Put  her  out!' 
Don't  you  think  I'll  love  my  husband  better  and  be 
more  worthy  of  him  because  I  saved  that  woman? 
He'll  not  know;  but  what  lie  is  there  if  I  can  say 
to  myself,  'I,  too,  have  done  something;  I've  saved 
Fanny.'  Whatever  good  there  is  in  that  goes  to  him 
and  his  children." 

Louise  perceived  that  these  gods  were  heathen. 
She  perceived  also  —  and  this  was  most  surprising  — 
that  the  little  woman  followed  them  with  open,  in 
telligent,  steady  eyes.  She  had  something  of  a 
proselytizing  zeal  —  for  the  blindly  erring.  This 
evidently  was  not  a  case  for  it. 

"Of  course,  you  must  be  the  judge,  Kittle,"  she 
said. 

Something  else  lingered  in  her  mind  —  that  odd 
thing  Fanny  had  said  about  finding  herself  in  front 
of  the  Hasbrook  place.  What  had  that  to  do  with 
Fanny?  She  was  tempted  to  ask  Kittie;  but  it 
savored  of  the  vulgarity  of  scandalous  gossip,  and 
she  forebore. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  formal  celebration  of  Labor  Day  began  with  a 
parade,  which  Louise  chose  to  watch  from  a  street 
corner.  She  thought  it  good  for  her  democracy  to 
stand  on  the  flagging  with  the  common  crowd. 
Banners  and  flags  were  displayed  along  Broadway. 
The  windows  were  peopled.  Here  and  there  a 
group  of  facetious  youths  with  megaphones  hung 
from  the  upper  stories  and  favored  the  crowd  with 
comments  on  the  marchers.  By  the  time  the  march 
ing  column  wound  past  Louise's  corner  it  was  rather 
straggling  and  sore-footed.  There  was  an  imper 
fect  understanding  between  the  nervous,  red-sashed 
marshals  and  their  mounts  —  mostly  delivery-wagon 
horses,  impressed  for  the  day.  Nevertheless  the 
spectacle  was  not  insignificant.  Broadway,  with  its 
high  buildings  and  smart  shops,  displayed  the  little 
city's  pride.  These  three  thousand  wage-earners, 
silently  trudging  behind  the  banners  of  their  unions, 
upholding  socialistic  mottoes,  had  their  impressive- 
ness  for  such  a  mind  as  Miss  Holmes's. 

The  speech-making  was  to  be  at  the  front  of  the 
Sauganac  House  — *  one  of  the  town's  famous  in 
stitutions.  The  hotel,  a  long,  three-story  brick 
structure  with  iron  balconies,  stood  in  a  parked 

37 


38  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

square  off  Broadway  —  just  where  the  street  bent 
nearest  to  the  lake  shore.  This  square  had  once 
been  a  public  park.  When  the  old  Sauganac 
House  burned — some  fifteen  years  before, — Dennis 
O'Neill's  amiable  henchmen  in  the  City  Council 
had  generously  presented  Landlord  Donovan  with 
a  ninety-nine  year  lease  of  the  park,  practically  rent 
free.  The  hotel  proprietor  and  Dennis  were  fast 
friends.  There  was  no  graft.  It  was  simply  a  piece 
of  open-handed  liberality  from  Dennis  to  his  friend 
—  at  the  city's  expense.  Such  was  the  father  of 
David  and  of  Kittie. 

Louise  was  in  no  hurry  to  reach  the  hotel.  She 
always  smelled  Dennis's  lease  there.  She  waited 
for  the  last  straggler  of  the  parade  to  pass;  then 
walked  slowly.  When  she  reached  the  pleasant 
little  park,  she  found  the  crowd  in  possession.  The 
rows  of  chairs  and  benches  fronting  the  hotel  had 
long  since  been  taken.  People  sat  thickly  on  the 
grass  at  the  rear.  The  balcony  over  the  front  door, 
from  which  the  speeches  were  to  be  delivered,  was 
already  pretty  well  filled  with  notables.  The  band 
was  vigorously  performing  a  final  air.  She  thought 
it  not  practicable  to  enter  the  hotel  from  the  front, 
yet  wished  to  hear  Winthrop's  speech.  She  skirted 
the  block,  therefore,  and  approached  the  hotel  on 
the  rear,  or  water,  side.  Here  a  cinder  footway  ran 
under  the  veranda  which  looked  out  upon  the  harbor. 
Walking  along  this,  she  smelled  a  reek  of  liquor  and 
heard  a  clamor  of  voices.  A  swinging  screen  door 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  39 

opened  and  several  men  came  out  noisily  directly 
before  her.  The  foremost  of  them,  in  a  dirty 
" Prince  Albert"  coat  and  soiled  linen,  held  a  half- 
empty  beer  glass.  He  evidently  knew  her,  and  for  a 
second,  while  she  halted,  startled,  his  glance  fell 
level  into  hers  —  drunken,  insolent,  malicious.  She 
colored,  stepped  quickly  aside,  and  passed  the  bar 
room  group.  For  a  little  time  the  shock  of  the  en 
counter  lingered  in  her  nerves.  She  knew  who  the 
man  was  —  Wesley  Wogan,  once  a  brilliant  lawyer, 
now  gone  to  the  dogs.  She  wondered  why  he  seemed 
to  hate  her.  Also,  she  reminded  herself  that  she  had 
seen  the  back  door  of  Landlord  Donovan's  prosperity. 
Staff  and  guests  of  the  hotel  seemed  taken  up  with 
the  speech-making.  The  office  was  empty.  Louise 
went  to  the  second  story  and  looked  about  uncer 
tainly.  A  broad  cross-hall  gave  to  the  balcony; 
but  the  three  windows  were  already  full  of  people, 
looking  out.  There  were  doors  to  the  right  and 
left,  one  or  both  of  which  should  admit  her  to  a  pub 
lic  parlor.  The  door  to  the  left  was  closed ;  that  to 
the  right  ajar.  She  entered.  It  was  a  parlor, 
furnished  with  a  good  deal  of  plush  and  gilt,  after 
the  manner  of  an  inland  first-class  hotel.  Eight  or 
ten  persons  stood  or  sat  at  the  two  windows  which 
looked  upon  the  balcony.  Louise  identified  them 
at  a  glance.  Stocky,  grizzled  Dennis  O'Neill  stood 
by  the  nearest  window.  Beside  him  sat  his  plain, 
gray,  motherly  wife.  The  other  chair  was  occupied 
by  a  woman  about  whom  nothing  seemed  genuine 


40  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

except  her  fat  and  wrinkles.  Her  hair  was  plainly 
dyed  to  that  auburn  hue,  and  supplemented  by  an 
ornate  false  front.  She  wore  a  much-befurbelowed 
white  gown  and  huge  hat,  and  had  diamonds  in  her 
ears.  This  was  Mrs.  Julius  Brown,  wife  of  the  editor 
of  the  Sauganac  Daily  News.  She  had  had  an  in 
conspicuous  career  on  the  stage  long  ago,  and  gave 
herself  many  liberties  in  virtue  of  it.  The  editor 
himself  stood  at  the  side  of  the  window  opposite 
Dennis  O'Neill  —  a  large,  loose  man  of  forty,  with 
a  long  red  neck  made  more  noticeable  by  a  wide, 
turn-down  collar.  He  was  saying,  "I  always  like  to 
hear  Bascom  speak ;  he's  so  sure  to  make  an  ass  of 
himself." 

Louise  perceived  that  she  had  blundered  into  a 
camp  of  the  enemy  —  probably  Editor  Brown's 
suite.  She  would  have  slipped  out;  but  Landlord 
Donovan  saw  her,  and  hastened  over.  He  had 
grown  somewhat  stout  in  later  years.  His  hair  and 
mustache  were  quite  gray.  Still  he  presented  the 
handsome,  gallant  figure  of  a  man.  His  smile,  as 
he  held  out  his  hand,  was  almost  boyishly  frank  and 
genial.  Louise  herself  felt  that  one  might  as  well 
talk  to  a  merry  urchin  about  transubstantiation  as 
to  this  handsome,  gray-headed,  warm-hearted,  open- 
handed  man  about  civic  morality.  She  even  gave 
him  a  little  laugh  for  the  joke  of  her  having  blun 
dered  in  there,  and  let  him  conduct  her  to  a  chair 
at  the  window.  The  talk  proceeded  without  regard 
to  her  near,  but  detached,  figure. 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  41 

"Bascom  can't  forgive  me,  though,  because  I  call 
him  our  leading  philanthropist  and  usurer/7  said 
Julius  Brown. 

"Julius  always  thinks  of  the  most  disagreeable 
thing  to  say/7  Mrs.  Brown  observed,  as  though  it 
were  rather  a  merit  in  him.  "I  think  it's  got  to  be 
automatic  with  him.  Only  yesterday  we  noticed  a 
new  millinery  store,  and  I  said  something  about  it, 
and  Julius  says,  '  I  wonder  whatever  became  of  Nellie 
Trescott's  younger  daughter.'  You  see,  I  men 
tioned  millinery  and  Julius  immediately  thought  of 
Nellie  Trescott  —  the  most  disagreeable  thing  con 
nected  with  it." 

"Well,  speaking  of  Nellie  Trescott/'  said  the 
editor,  "I  see  Fred  Hasbrook  got  home  to-day.  I 
don't  know  as  Fred  is  the  most  disagreeable  thing 
connected  with  Nellie ;  but  he's  the  most  conspicu 
ous."  The  editor  was  much  pleased  with  his  wit. 
His  cackling  voice  rose  higher.  "Maybe  Fred's 
going  to  open  the  new  millinery  store  himself  and 
see  if  he  can't  get  back  some  of  the  money  he  sunk 
in  the  trade  when  Nellie  was  around." 

Louise,  from  the  moment  of  taking  the  chair,  had 
looked  steadily  out  of  the  window.  She  hoped, 
angrily,  that  her  face  was  not  turning  red.  Her  men 
tal  attitude  toward  this  scandalous  gossip  was  that 
of  a  person  removing  a  dirty  rag  with  a  long  pair  of 
tongs.  She  thought,  some  way,  that  Dennis  O'Neill 
signalled  to  Julius.  At  any  rate  the  subject  changed. 
"Here's  Goliath,"  said  the  editor,  as  a  patter  of 
applause  sounded  without. 


42  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

Mr.  Bascom,  who  called  himself  a  lawyer  and 
made  a  comfortable  living  as  fire  insurance  agent  and 
shaver  of  notes,  and  who  had  his  finger  in  every  pie 
by  virtue  of  an  irrepressible  determination  to  put 
it  there,  had  arisen  in  perspiring,  podgy,  and  windy 
dignity.  His  introductory  speech  was  the  merest 
assinine  verbosity.  He  was  presently  roaring  out 
of  his  purple  face,  "And  so  I  introduce  to  you  that 
sturdy  woodman  —  member  of  the  woodman's  union, 
—  whose  bright  axe  of  reform  is  clearing  away  the 
jungle  of  graft  —  honest  Winthrop  Holmes!" 

The  applause  was  perfunctory.  Somebody  at  the 
back  of  the  crowd  yelled  "Rats!"  and  hooted  de 
risively.  Even  amiable  Landlord  Donovan  laughed. 

The  prosecuting  attorney  arose,  and  Louise  saw 
at  once  that  the  foolish  introduction  had  not  in  the 
least  disconcerted  him.  He  went  straight  at  his 
speech  as  though  there  had  been  no  preface. 

He  had  no  oratorical  graces.  The  speech  was  a 
simple,  solid,  unadorned  argument  for  the  suprem 
acy  of  the  law.  Before  he  had  been  up  five  minutes 
Louise  felt,  with  a  sinking  heart,  that  with  this 
audience  it  would  quite  fail.  In  Sauganac,  he  said, 
there  were  seventy-five  thousand  people ;  in  Mission 
County,  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand.  In  the  last 
county  election  the  issue  was  very  clearly  defined. 
He  had  been  elected  prosecuting  attorney  and  Endi- 
cott  had  been  elected  sheriff  on  the  unmistakable 
understanding  that  they  should,  with  strict  impar 
tiality,  enforce  the  law.  It  was  a  great  thing,  he 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  43 

thought,  that  a  governing  majority  of  all  these 
people  should  deliberately  elect  to  live  strictly  by  the 
law.  It  had  been  represented  to  him  by  very  well- 
meaning  persons  —  sometimes  on  the  side  of  cap 
ital,  sometimes  on  the  side  of  labor  —  that  he  ought 
not  to  do  certain  things  by  way  of  enforcing  the 
statutes  because  those  things  would  be  unpopular 
and  even  against  the  best  interests  of  the  people 
themselves.  He  could  only  reply  that  the  man 
date  he  had  received  from  the  people  was,  '  Enforce 
the  law  ! '  He  would  obey  it  strictly.  If,  when  the 
next  election  came  around,  a  majority  of  the  people 
decided  that  they  wished  to  live  under  a  different 
dispensation,  he  would  have  nothing  to  say. 

"Many  people  of  Sauganac,"  he  went  on,  "are 
ambitious  to  have  the  State  Fair  held  here  next 
month,  because  it  will  advertise  the  town  and  bring 
trade.  I  am  told  that  the  only  way  in  which  the 
heavy  expenses  of  the  Fair  can  be  met  is  to  permit 
book-makers,  who  will  pay  a  great  many  thousand 
dollars  for  the  privilege,  to  run  what  they  call  for 
eign  books  —  that  is,  take  bets  on  horse-races  all 
over  the  country,  which  is  clearly  against  the  law; 
and  to  let  down  the  bars  for  saloons,  which  will  sub 
scribe  liberally  if  they  are  permitted  to  run  all  night, 
and  so  on.  I  am  told  rival  towns  will  offer  these 
concessions  and  Sauganac  will  lose  the  Fair  unless 
she  does  the  same.  If  that  is  true,  Sauganac  must 
lose  the  Fair.  There  will  be  no  letting  down  of  the 
bars.  I  stand  here  to  enforce  the  law,  as  the  people 


44  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

told  me  to  do.  So  I  shall  stand  while  I  hold  the  office 
of  prosecuting  attorney." 

Louise  caught  her  breath  as  he  sat  down,  plumply. 
It  had  the  effect,  simply,  of  a  challenge.  Her  nerves 
were  quick  to  gather  the  disturbed,  hostile  air  of  the 
balcony.  A  single  hiss  would  have  started  a  dem 
onstration.  Directly  in  front  of  her  window  sat  a 
hollow-eyed  old  man,  with  a  tall,  narrow  head  cov 
ered  with  a  mat  of  white  hair,  and  a  slim  white  beard 
that  fell  halfway  to  his  waist.  This  was  Epperson, 
the  patent-medicine  millionaire  who  had  been  treas 
urer  of  Winthrop's  campaign  committee.  He  pawed 
his  beard  with  a  bony  hand  and  turned  to  look  bale- 
fully  at  his  companion,  Banker  Titus.  It  was  evi 
dent  that  the  patent-medicine  man  was  furious. 

But  a  crucial  moment  passed  without  a  hiss ;  and 
then  a  solitary  voice,  out  among  the  workmen,  called, 
"That's  the  stuff,  all  the  same !"  It  broke  the  ten 
sion.  Some  laughed.  Others  amiably  applauded  a 
little. 

Bascom  bobbed  up  for  another  windy  introduc 
tion.  Louise  heard  Dennis  say,  "This  is  the  Sena 
tor,"  and  she  bent  forward  with  an  impatient  mo 
tion.  A  lean,  old  man  arose,  to  general  applause, 
and  stood  bowing  urbanely.  Louise  clapped  vigor 
ously;  the  color  deepened  in  her  cheeks;  a  sudden 
passion  of  pride  and  love  suffused  her  heavy  heart. 

Miles  Hasbrook  was  now  in  his  seventy-third  year. 
He  had  been  lieutenant-governor,  then  governor  of 
the  state  during  the  Civil  War,  and  had  stamped 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  45 

his  name  in  the  record  of  those  times.  He  had  served 
a  term  in  Congress ;  then,  for  twenty  years,  had  rep 
resented  the  state  in  the  upper  house  at  Washington. 
The  year  before  he  had  declined  a  nomination  for 
vice-president.  The  relationship  between  himself 
and  Louise's  mother  was  really  distant ;  but  she  had 
always  called  him  " Uncle  Miles.'7  The  Hasbrook 
place  had  always  been  a  sort  of  second  home  to  her. 

The  Senator,  as  he  was  still  invariably  called, 
although  he  had  been  in  retirement  three  years,  was 
quite  round-shouldered  and  his  white  hair  had  grown 
thin  without  leaving  him  bald.  He  had  a  big,  arched 
nose  that  looked  exaggeratedly  large  in  the  midst  of 
his  long,  thin,  smooth-shaven  face.  His  eyes  oddly 
sparkled  with  vigor  under  their  bristling,  whitish 
thatches ;  and  he  spoke  in  the  mellow,  flowing  voice 
that  reaches  over  the  largest  crowd  and  holds  it,  in 
sensibly  charming  even  dull  ears  with  its  music. 
The  wrords  came  without  the  slightest  effort.  He 
moved  in  the  narrow  space  left  to  him  with  a  dis 
arming,  leisurely  naturalness,  and  with  scarcely  a 
gesture  —  with  an  effect  of  candid,  good-humored 
reasoning  as  though  he  were  in  his  study  with  some 
friends. 

Louise  appreciated  the  ripe  art  of  it  to  her  finger 
tips.  She  saw  the  veteran,  the  champion  who  had 
borne  a  weighty  role  in  a  hundred  great  verbal  battles, 
to  whom  the  government  had  more  than  once  in 
trusted  its  cause  in  a  crisis.  She  had  a  delight  which 
was  sensuous  as  well  as  intellectual  in  the  play  of  his 


46  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

practised  sword.  She  understood,  in  a  moment,  that 
he  was  taking  up  Winthrop's  theme  without  seeming 
to  do  it,  and,  with  that  disarming  ease,  was  weaving 
it  full  of  allusions  to  the  great,  ever  standing  values 
that  move  men's  hearts.  He  stepped  behind  the 
small  desk,  his  lean  old  hands  resting  upon  it,  and 
let  his  voice  ring  bell-like  in  a  terse  peroration.  And 
the  fire  caught.  Cheer  after  cheer  went  up  —  fervid, 
impassioned,  as  happens  when  an  orator  strikes  deep 
and  satisfies  the  dumb  aspiration  of  a  crowd. 

Louise's  throat  was  full  and  throbbing.  She  felt 
her  eyelashes  suddenly  wet.  She  saw  that  the  old 
master  had  set  Winthrop's  blunt  cause  of  the  truth 
before  these  men  in  its  proper  royal  garments,  and 
that  their  hearts  acknowledged  it.  She  split  her 
gloves  applauding;  and  she  heard  Dennis  O'Neill 
saying,  soberly,  "All  the  same,  every  mother's  son  of 
'em  can  go  to  school  to  the  old  man  still !" 

The  speech-making  was  over,  the  crowd  break 
ing  up.  Louise  vaguely  heard  Mrs.  Julius  saying 
something  more  about  Fred  and  the  milliner ;  but  it 
scarcely  impressed  her  mind. 

She  went  into  the  broad  cross-hall,  hoping  to  meet 
the  Senator.  Instead,  Winthrop  found  her. 

"Fred  Hasbrook  got  home  to-day,"  he  said. 
"I've  seen  him.  He's  going  to  take  up  the  fight !" 
His  eyes  shone  eagerly.  She  saw  that  he  cared  little 
or  nothing  about  the  failure  of  his  own  speech ;  but 
was  happy  over  the  victory  of  getting  Frederick  on 
his  side.  That  was  like  him  ! 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  Hasbrook  place  was  two  miles  beyond  the 
city  limits,  fronting  a  macadamized  extension  of  the 
boulevard  that  ran  along  the  brow  of  the  bluff.  The 
river  curved  there,  so  the  spacious,  well-kept  grounds 
overlooked  the  pleasant  valley,  some  glimpses  of 
the  town  about  the  river's  mouth,  and  the  blue  bosom 
of  the  lake  beyond. 

It  was  a  comfortable  old  house  of  no  architectural 
pretensions  —  a  main  part  with  a  wing  on  each  side, 
all  two  stories  high,  of  brick,  now  painted  a  dull 
yellow.  A  wide  veranda,  only  a  foot  above  the 
ground,  ran  along  the  front. 

The  weather  was  still  genial,  inviting  one  out-of- 
doors;  but  the  leaves  were  turning,  enriching  the 
panorama  of  the  valley  with  prodigal  colors.  Be 
fore  Louise  turned  in  at  the  arched  iron  gateway  she 
saw  two  men  lounging  on  the  veranda.  One  of  them, 
the  Senator,  saw  her  and  waved  his  hand.  The 
other  sat  up,  turning  his  head ;  and  when  she  was 
halfway  across  the  ample  lawn,  he  arose  and  came 
leisurely  to  meet  her.  This  was  the  Senator's  son. 

Frederick  was  then  forty-five,  as  tall  as  his  father, 
but  of  an  ampler,  fleshier,  looser  build.  Like  the 
Senator,  he  had  the  nose  of  power ;  but  with  him  it 

47 


48  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

was  meatier,  more  bulbous,  and  of  a  rather  mottled, 
coppery  hue  which  betoken  out-of-doors  and  good 
living.  He  was  almost  completely  bald,  and  the 
big  dome  of  his  head  was  a  kind  of  distinction  in 
itself.  He  moved  in  a  loose-jointed  way  that  sug 
gested  bodily  strength  and  indolence. 

Approaching  him,  Louise's  eyes  shone,  her  cheeks 
turned  rosy.  She  held  out  both  hands,  stretched 
up  on  tiptoe,  and  kissed  him.  He  drew  her  hand 
through  his  arm,  and  they  walked  up  to  the  veranda. 
He  seated  her  beside  the  Senator  and  stood  over 
her,  his  hands  on  his  hips,  smiling. 

"Loie,  it's  fine  to  see  you  here  !"  he  declared;  and, 
as  he  doubled  his  large  body  to  a  lounging  attitude  in 
the  chair  he  had  left,  he  added,  "It  interests  me 
already  to  think  what  trouble  you  are  going  to  get 
into." 

"No  trouble  for  me  !"  she  replied  gayly.  "Uncle 
Miles  and  I  have  talked  it  over  and  settled  that !" 

She  was  happy.  These  two  men  belonged  to  the 
finest  part  of  her  life.  As  far  back  as  she  could  re 
member  she  had  run  about  the  old  place  as  another 
home. 

The  Senator  chuckled.  "I  can't  have  trouble  my 
self.  It  doesn't  care  for  me.  I'm  too  old.  Fred  is 
looking  for  some,  though." 

"Yes,"  she  said  eagerly.  "Winthrop  told  me. 
You're  going  to  pitch  into  the  distillers." 

"Pitching  in's  the  word,"  he  answered.  "I  find 
Winthrop's  insanity  catching.  I'm  in  need  of  a  job, 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  49 

and  I  might  do  worse  —  although  father  hardly 
thinks  so." 

She  turned  her  head,  with  a  questioning  aston 
ishment,  to  look  at  the  Senator. 

"It's  only  that  I  doubt  you  will  succeed,"  said 
the  Senator,  good-naturedly.  "I  don't  question 
the  comprehensive  deviltry  of  the  distillers  — 
heaven  forbid  !  It  strikes  me  that  a  suit  in  equity, 
brought  by  a  private  person,  is  a  rather  poor  way  of 
getting  at  them." 

"But  Winthrop  says  they  own  the  attorney- 
general,  so  who  but  a  private  person  can  attack 
them?"  she  urged  warmly.  "Not  to  lie  down  and 
let  them  walk  over  everybody  because  they  are  rich 
and  powerful,  Uncle  Miles  !  To  fight  them  —  fight 
them  all  you  know !  To  strike  at  them  always, 
everywhere,  and  never  let  up  !  Isn't  that  the  way  ?  " 

Frederick  tipped  back  his  big  head  and  laughed, 
mellow  and  deep.  "There's  the  only  spirit,  father! 
There's  the  royal  road  to  reform!  That's  the 
doctrine  —  the  good,  fiery  little  heart  that  wants 
to  fight  until  it's  knocked  galley  west  and  then  come 
back  and  fight  more !  That's  the  only  platform ! 
We  must  roast  the  distillers  to  please  Loie !  We 
must  soak  'em  hip  and  thigh  so  her  gentle  breast 
may  find  peace!"  He  laughed  again,  with  relish. 
"We  ought  to  have  her  in  the  lists  with  us !" 

"Will  you?"  She  bent  forward  a  little,  smiling 
at  his  laughter,  yet  eager.  "I  know  something 
about  law,  really.  I  put  in  spare  time  at  it,  thinking 


50  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

I  could  help  Winthrop  some.  I  can  look  up  refer 
ences  as  well  as  anybody.  If  you  think  I'm  a  joke, 
just  give  me  a  chance  at  loading  muskets  while 
you're  on  the  firing  line!" 

As  Frederick  regarded  her  the  laugh  became  only 
a  faint  twinkling  in  the  depths  of  his  eyes.  In  a 
way  it  was  no  joke.  Here  was  the  heart  aglow ;  the 
generous,  headlong  enthusiasm  —  for  a  certain  ac 
tion  in  equity  against  three  opulent  distillers.  He 
was  still  and  ever  would  be  to  her  the  good  old 
Cousin  Fred  that  he  had  been  from  the  times  when 
she  had  come  to  him  in  trouble  over  rents  in  her 
frock  and  stockings.  Once,  in  her  fourteenth  year, 
he  had  brought  her  home  from  Chicago  across  the 
lake.  There  was  an  accident  in  the  night  and  a 
panic.  He  battered  at  her  stateroom  door,  calling, 
"Come  instantly,  Loie!"  She  came  as  he  com 
manded,  a  skirt  and  waist  thrown  mechanically  over 
her  arm,  her  hair  in  a  long,  thick  braid,  her  feet  and 
neck  bare ;  greatly  afraid,  but  quiet,  obedient,  trust 
ing  everything  to  him.  The  girlish  figure,  with 
wide,  fear-stricken  eyes,  yet  still,  meek,  yielding 
herself  to  whatever  was  demanded,  detached  itself 
from  the  ruck  of  crazily  rushing  forms  and  the  babel 
of  shrieks,  and  strangely  stilled  his  own  panic. 
From  that  time  she  had  been  rather  different  to 
him.  The  difference  finally  shaped  itself  in  a  dream 
of  something  that  might  have  been.  But  he  had 
never  been  different  to  her. 

"Probably  the  muskets  will  not  shoot  the  worse 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  51 

for  your  loading  them,"  he  said  lightly.  " She's 
quite  right,  father.  The  Nogiac  gentlemen  need 
plucking.  They're  overripe.  Indeed,  they're  rotten. 
They've  had  their  own  way  too  long.  Of  course, 
your  idea  is  the  sensible  one  —  to  drive  them  out  of 
politics  by  electing  men  they  can't  bribe  and  so  on. 
But  that  means  long  time,  and  these  wild  Holmeses 
have  got  me  all  infected  with  their  impatience. 
After  all,  somebody  must  start  the  ball  rolling,  raise 
a  banner,  lead  an  assault;  and  I'm  ready  for  the 
job.  I  have  reasons  of  my  own  for  not  liking  them. 
That  old  blackguard  Codley  represents  them  in 
law  and  politics.  If  a  man  is  a  blackguard,  why  not 
say  so?  I  got  him  pilled  at  the  Country  Club,  and 
am  very  glad  of  it." 

"I  don't  know  but  he  should  have  been  admitted," 
said  the  Senator.  "  Eminence  merits  recognition. 
Codley  is  the  ablest  blackguard  I  know." 

"The  fight  will  be  all  the  more  interesting  on  that 
account,"  Frederick  returned.  "I  feel  like  pitching 
right  in,  as  Loie  says." 

"Well,  if  the  spirit  really  moves  you,  wade  in, 
Fred,"  said  the  Senator.  "I  don't  wish  to  rob 
another  great  historic  character  of  his  laurels;  but 
I  will  emulate  him  by  washing  my  hands  of  it. 
Of  course,  if  it  should  turn  out  exceptionally  well, 
I'll  claim  the  credit."  He  chuckled  again.  He 
and  his  son  were  good  friends.  They  stood  together. 

"I  suppose  I  might  have  gone  on  being  congress 
man."  Frederick  observed.  He  had  served  three 


52  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

terms  in  the  lower  house.  "It's  a  pretty  comfort 
able  place  to  loaf.  But  I'm  not  built  right  for  a 
jumping-jack.  Flopping  my  arms  and  legs  as  the 
steering  committee  pulls  the  wires  makes  my  joints 
sore.  I'd  rather  flop  here  on  the  lawn.  It  is  easier 
and  counts  for  just  as  much.  Newcomb  is  doing 
it  bully  in  my  place  at  Washington,  and  likes  it. 
So  I  need  a  job.  Shooting  at  the  distillers  will  suit 
me  first  rate."  He  looked  over  at  her,  smiling. 
"The  fight  will  be  bitter  enough  to  satisfy  the  most 
bloodthirsty  }^oung  lady  living." 

He  spoke  lightly  enough ;  but  she  knew  this  was 
literally  true.  It  would  be  all  in  musty  legal  forms, 
with  bill  and  cross-bill,  demurrer  and  subpoena 
deuces-tecum.  Had  she  seen  a  knight  with  sword 
and  shield  purposing  to  engage  a  dragon  she  would 
have  advised  him  coldly  to  use  cyanide  of  potassium. 
Before  this  bald-headed  lawyer  her  eyes  shone,  her 
breast  swelled,  her  blood  quickened. 

They  heard  footsteps  on  the  gravel  walk,  and 
looked  up,  to  see  Dennis  O'Neill  and  David  Donovan 
crossing  the  lawn.  Had  the  men  noticed  her  then 
they  would  have  seen  the  light  go  out  of  her  face, 
and  a  little  drooping,  half  sad,  half  bitter,  touch  the 
corners  of  her  mouth. 

Frederick  arose  to  meet  the  callers,  and  took  them 
into  the  house  —  from  which  it  appeared  that  they 
had  come  by  appointment.  Louise  talked  on  with 
the  Senator  awhile ;  went  into  the  house  with  him ; 
finally  left  him  in  the  library. 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  53 

A  large  square  hall  divided  the  lower  floor. 
Frederick  had  taken  a  front  room  in  the  right-hand 
wing  for  his  office,  where  he  attended  to  such  legal 
and  other  business  as  he  chose  to  occupy  himself 
with.  The  library  was  in  the  left-hand  wing  at 
the  rear,  looking  upon  the  garden  and  orchard. 
A  door  at  the  end  led  to  what  had  been  meant  for 
a  drawing-room  —  a  long,  rather  narrow  apartment 
with  narrow  windows  that  came  down  to  the  floor 
and  opened  upon  the  veranda.  One  wing  of  the 
door  to  the  hall  was  usually  open,  as  now ;  but  the 
room  was  very  little  used.  Only  one  of  the  six 
white  blinds  was  thrown  back,  so  the  apartment 
was  dim  and  cool,  with  an  air  of  empty  seclusion. 
It  was  here  that  Louise  came  from  the  library,  and 
seated  herself,  half  absently. 

It  was  time  to  talk  to  David.  Her  will  to  cour 
age  and  rectitude  struggled  confusedly  with  all 
the  feelings  that  prompted  her  to  postpone  talking 
to  him.  She  felt  that  she  knew  what  she  ought  to 
say  to  him ;  and  she  detested  a  false  position.  But 
her  woman's  pulses  fluttered  and  trembled  as  she 
tried  to  drive  herself  to  the  point  of  boldly  taking  her 
station  on  the  veranda  and  waiting  until  he  came  out 
of  Frederick's  office.  The  slight  droop,  half  sad, 
half  bitter,  remained  at  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 
Coming  in  from  the  hall  to  find  her,  David  saw  it 
when  he  drew  near,  and  her  grave,  steady  eyes. 

His  own  pulses  were  tumultuous.  It  was  the 
first  time  they  had  been  alone,  in  privacy.  He  had 


54  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

held  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  lips.  Her  full, 
steady  look,  not  without  a  tragic  dignity,  denied  the 
ardent  impulse  that  would  have  made  his  hands 
si  retch  out  to  take  her.  He  sat  down  before  her 
quietly,  with  a  faint,  half-defeated  smile. 

"My  dear,"  he  said  simply.  In  a  way  it  put  for 
ward  all  his  claim  —  yet  patiently,  even  humbly. 

" After  so  long  a  time,  David?"  she  asked,  low, 
with  a  kind  of  fond  mournfulness. 

"More  than  ever,"  he  replied.  "It  was  a  kind  of 
boy-and-girl  affair.  Perhaps  it  isn't  fair  to  hold  you 
to  it."  He  looked  at  her  unflinchingly.  "I  know 
your  letters  have  been  very  different  the  last  year 
or  so.  I've  honestly  been  trying  to  tell  myself  it 
was  something  that  was  past  and  ended.  But 
the  minute  I  saw  you  again,  Loie  —  it  all  comes 
back,  more  than  ever.  I  have  no  choice,  I  simply 
must.  That's  all,  Lou." 

She  bit  her  lip  a  little  to  stop  its  trembling.  "We 
talked  about  the  ballot-boxes,  you  know,  David ; 
and  a  great  deal  else  along  that  line.  You  must 
have  understood.  If  the  letters  were  different  — 
You  had  bribe  money  in  your  hands." 

"I  was  honest  with  you  about  the  ballot-boxes," 
he  answered.  "I  was  ashamed  of  myself  and  meant 
never  to  do  such  a  thing  again,  just  as  I  told  you. 
The  bribe  money  was  entirely  different.  The  dis- 
tillrrs  \\rrr  ^cHing  an  amendment  of  the  dramshop 
act  through  the  legislature.  Of  course  they  were 
paying  for  it.  One  of  the  members  of  the  house 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  55 

from  Sauganac  was  named  Barbour  —  a  fellow  who 
had  done  some  work  for  the  street  railroad  off  and 
on,  buying  parcels  of  real  estate  for  right  of  way  and 
so  on.  After  the  bill  passed  the  house,  Barbour 
died  suddenly.  The  money  wouldn't  be  paid  until 
the  bill  passed  the  senate  and  was  signed  by  the 
governor.  Another  member  of  the  house  came  to 
me  about  it.  Barbour  had  left  his  wife  and  chil 
dren  scarcely  a  cent.  The  brother  member  wanted 
them  to  have  the  thousand  dollars  which  was  the 
price  of  the  vote  Barbour  had  given  for  the  bill. 
I  told  Codley's  Man  Friday  —  Codley  is  the  distiller's 
chief  counsel,  you  know ;  but  he  doesn't  handle  the 
money  himself.  I  told  the  Man  Friday  to  send  me 
the  thousand  dollars  and  I'd  turn  it  over  to  the 
widow  as  though  it  were  due  Barbour  for  work  he 
had  done  for  the  street  railroad.  It  happened 
there  was  a  row  on  over  the  spoils.  Some  indignant 
statesmen  claimed  they  weren't  getting  what  they 
had  been  promised.  The  man  who  usually  handles 
the  cash  for  the  boodlers  in  this  section  sided  with  the 
malcontents.  So  Codley  had  an  express  package, 
said  to  contain  twelve  thousand  dollars,  sent  to  me 
with  a  memorandum  from  Friday  saying  to  whom 
it  was  to  be  paid.  Codley  had  confidence  in  my 
discretion,  you  see,  and  as  I  was  going  to  take 
Barbour's  money  he  thought  I  might  as  well  handle 
it  all.  I  returned  the  express  package  and  told  him 
the  Barbour  money  was  all  I  cared  to  have  anything 
to  do  with.  The  row  got  so  violent  that  it  was 


56  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

talked  about  pretty  openly.  So  Winthrop  and 
some  others  learned  about  it.  They  thought  I 
ought  to  testify  about  the  express  package  and 
Friday's  memorandum,  with  which  evidence  they 
could  convict  Friday  and  a  dozen  legislators  of 
bribery.  I  refused  to  do  it,  and  convinced  them 
that  they  couldn't  make  me  do  it." 

"Why  did  you  refuse?"  she  asked. 

" Can't  you  see,  Lou?"  he  replied.  "It  would 
have  been  easy  to  wash  my  hands  of  the  whole 
thing  and  let  the  widow  and  children  go  without 
the  thousand  dollars.  I  preferred  to  help  them  get 
it.  Having  gone  into  it  in  that  way,  how  could  I 
turn  state's  evidence?" 

"That's  it,  David.  You  put  that  sort  of  good 
fellowship  above  law  and  truth!" 

He  studied  the  floor  a  minute,  with  a  darkened 
face.  "Perhaps  I  was  brought  up  wrong,"  he  sug 
gested  with  a  trace  of  irony.  "Dennis  O'Neill 
was  a  sort  of  godfather  to  me,  because  he  was  fond 
of  me.  And  Dennis  —  to  his  dying  day,  Lou,  he 
will  never  be  able  to  understand  that  politics  is 
anything  but  a  fine,  nervy  game  of  wits  to  be 
played  for  the  offices  and  the  graft.  Winthrop's 
kind  of  politics  seems  to  him  just  a  new  trick  in  the 
old  game  —  a  new  way  to  catch  votes.  I  suppose  I 
had  a  knack  for  men's  affairs.  Dennis,  out  of  fond 
ness  for  me  and  pride  in  my  aptness,  taught  me  his 
game  of  politics  early.  When  I  was  a  high  school 
lad  playing  ball,  I  knew  what  was  going  on  in  the 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  57 

ward  clubs.  Take  the  ballot-boxes  —  I  happened 
to  be  in  Dennis's  office  that  afternoon,  and  a  clerk  of 
election  came  in  and  told  Dennis  how  the  other  side 
had  stuffed  the  ballot-boxes  in  three  precincts; 
also  how  the  stuffed  boxes  might  be  stolen  by 
prompt  action.  It  appealed  to  Dennis's  sense  of 
humor.  I  went  because  there  was  only  one  other 
man  at  hand  whom  he  could  trust.  Dennis  rolled 
on  the  floor  when  he  pulled  it  off  —  stole  the  boxes 
the  other  fellows  had  stuffed." 

"Oh,  Davy!  You  smile  a  little  even  now! 
Back  there  —  telling  me  about  the  bribed  represen 
tative  —  you  half  made  a  joke  of  it.  You  went 
light-heartedly  to  those  thieving  policemen  to  find 
the  policy-shop  man  who  threatened  Kittie !  It's 
half  a  joke  to  you!"  she  cried  in  pain. 

He  bent  forward.  "Not  half,  Lou!  Not  near 
half !  The  little  part  that  is  a  joke  is  all  that's  left 
of  what  I  started  out  with."  His  voice  shook  and 
he  palpably  controlled  himself.  "Let  me  tell  you, 
Lou.  Don't  you  see,  it  looked  just  as  unlikely 
that  you'd  be  the  girl  I'd  pick  out  as  that  I'd  be  a 
man  you  would  care  for.  Yet  from  the  first  — 
that  evening  in  Ann  Arbor  —  you  came  in  power 
fully.  Maybe  it  was  because  you  were  so  different. 
You  were  a  pretty  hot-headed  little  piece  sometimes ; 
but  the  finest  part  of  you  came  out  in  your  letters 
to  me  —  so  sweet  and  clear  —  almost,  dear,  as 
though  we  were  a  sober  married  couple  making  up  a 
life  together.  I  built  on  them,  my  girl!  I  knew 


58  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

I  oughtn't  to  go  into  the  ballot-box  business,  and 
was  ashamed  of  myself  because  I  let  it  carry  me 
off  my  feet.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  crooked 
politics.  I  mean  to  go  straight.  I  built  on  it. 
It's  a  poor  enough  thing  to  say ;  but  out  of  my  first 
year's  salary  I  put  aside  something  toward  a  house. 
Don't  you  see  how  much  it  has  got  into  my  life?" 

Her  breast  labored  with  the  struggle  to  keep 
herself  in  hand.  The  unruly  little  pulses  that  had 
often  leapt  at  his  step,  thrilled  at  his  kiss,  tried  to 
betray  her.  "I  don't  doubt  that,  and  I  know  the 
honor  it  is,  Davy,"  she  began  rather  blindly.  "Tell 
me  what  you  are  doing  up  here  to-day."  He  had 
come  with  Dennis  O'Neill. 

"Here?"  he  repeated  blankly,  not  understanding. 
"Why,  we're  helping  Fred  in  his  suit  against  the 
Nogiac  distillers." 

"You  are?"  she  cried  breathlessly.  "Really, 
Davy?  Are  you  helping  him?" 

"Why,  yes,"  he  answered,  vaguely  wondering. 
"Bringing  him  some  good  evidence  to  use  against 
them,  you  know.  It's  going  to  be  a  big  fight,  too. 
I'm  going  to  get  more  evidence  for  him." 

She  bent  toward  him,  aglow,  her  eyes  bright,  her 
lips  slightly  apart  and  touched  by  a  smile.  There 
was  invitation  in  her  face.  Still  at  loss,  but  with 
a  leap  of  the  heart,  he  took  her  hand. 

"And  you've  come  over  to  our  side,  Davy,  for 
that  big  fight !"  In  an  instant  she  would  be  in  his 
arms ;  but  then  he  understood. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  59 

"Of  course,  I'm  doing  it  on  Dennis's  account/' 
he  said. 

" Dennis's  account?"  she  repeated.  The  glow 
faded  from  her  face,  and  the  little  droop  came  back 
to  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

"It's  just  this  way,  Lou,"  he  explained,  compre 
hending  her  disappointment,  and  very  sober. 
"  Dennis  owns  a  little  distillery  here  in  Sauganac, 
you  know.  He's  put  all  his  money  in  it,  and  gone 
in  debt  to  boot.  When  Dennis  had  his  own  way 
here  politically,  the  big  distillery  combine,  of  which 
the  Nogiac  men  are  an  important  part,  was  very 
good-natured  to  him.  They're  rather  sore  because 
he  let  Winthrop  be  elected.  Besides,  it  seems  the 
big  fellows  are  planning  to  form  a  big  trust,  to  be 
floated  in  Wall  Street.  They've  evidently  made 
up  their  minds  that  it  would  be  cheaper  to  rob 
Dennis  of  his  plant  than  to  buy  it  of  him  at  a  fair 
price.  So  of  late  they've  begun  to  fight  him  — 
stealing  his  trade  here  and  there  and  so  on.  You 
know  how  a  trust  does  those  things.  Dennis 
doesn't  propose  to  lie  down.  He  proposes  to  fight. 
He's  going  to  help  Fred  Hasbrook ;  giving  him 
evidence  of  restraints  of  trade,  blacklisting,  and  so 
on  —  simply  to  impress  the  big  fellows  with  the 
idea  that  they'd  best  use  him  right.  It's  a  rather 
ticklish  business.  Dennis  is  constitutionally  sus 
picious  of  lawyers.  He  asks  me  to  help  him." 

"It's  a  kind  of  blackmail,"  said  she,  with  ominous 
quietness.  "Dennis  is  trying  to  frighten  the  dis- 


60  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

tillers  into  paying  him  what  he  asks  for  his  plant. 
When  he  does  that,  he  will  have  no  further  interest 
in  Frederick's  suit." 

"I  suppose  that's  about  it."  He  sighed.  "Loie, 
why  should  I  sit  by  and  see  the  old  man  robbed? 
He's  always  been  my  friend.  It  isn't  as  you  think  — 
with  all  the  good  on  one  side  and  all  the  bad  on  the 
other.  Fred  knows  Dennis's  motive  well  enough." 

"And  you  know  Frederick's  motive/'  she  replied. 
"Is  it  greedy?  Is  it  selfish?  Has  it  no  regard  to 
anybody  but  himself?  Will  he  sell  out  if  he  can 
make  a  profit?  That  —  that's  what  I  wish!" 
She  took  a  small  step  nearer  him,  shaken  with 
earnestness,  a  small  furrow  in  her  brow.  "Davy! 
Tell  me  truly  —  in  what's  past,  from  the  very 
beginning,  did  you  ever  misunderstand  me?" 

"I  don't  think  I  ever  did,"  he  said.  "I  always 
understood  you  meant  I  was  to  be  square.  I  never 
heard  of  another  girl  meaning  that  —  really  meaning 
it  the  way  you  did.  I  guess  that's  why  I've  loved 
my  girl  so.  I've  built  on  it.  Loie,  if  I  can't  see  a 
particular  case  just  as  you  do,  you  oughtn't  to  be 
rough  on  me." 

"But  I  shall  be  rough  on  you,  Davy  !  I  shall  be  !" 
she  burst  forth  passionately.  "That's  exactly  my 
part !  You're  brave  and  generous  and  able.  You 
must  come  clear  over  to  our  side,  Davy  —  with 
honor  and  truth  and  justice!  Not  on  Dennis 
O'Neill's  side  !  Don't  you  see  ?  I  couldn't  bear  — 
could  not  bear  —  anything  less  than  that.  It 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  61 

would  be  my  own  shameful  failure.  If  I'm  not 
rough  on  you  —  I  don't  love  you  !"  She  sprang  up, 
reddening. 

He  arose,  bending  his  head  to  look  more  deeply 
into  her  eyes,  with  the  ghost  of  a  happy  smile. 
" Red-hearted ;  stubborn-headed!  My  same  dear 
unaccountable  girl!"  He  laid  an  arm  over  her 
shoulder. 

"No,  Davy!"  she  refused,  in  a  sweet,  half-petu 
lant  confusion,  turning  her  head  to  deny  her  lips. 
"You  haven't  said.  You're  still  a  grafter  —  some. 
You're  with  Dennis  O'Neill." 

He  laughed  low.  "Anyway,  I'll  see  one  or  two 
bombs  landed  in  Nogiac.  That  will  please  you  — 
although  you'll  pretend  it  won't !"  He  had  let  her 
slip  from  his  lax  arm. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  first  bomb  landed  in  Nogiac  promptly  —  in 
the  form  of  a  complaint  filed  with  the  Interstate 
Commerce  Commission,  setting  forth  the  payment 
of  certain  freight  rebates  to  the  Grand  Mogul  Distil 
lery,  the  evidence  having  been  furnished  by  Dennis 
O'Neill.  This  formally  opened  the  battle. 

Toward  eleven  o'clock,  one  pleasant  October 
day,  Mr.  A.  B.  Codley,  —  commonly  known  as  "Old 
Alphabet,"  —  chief  counsel  for  the  Nogiac  distillers, 
issued  from  the  Sauganac  House  and  trudged  serenely 
down  Broadway.  The  lawyer  was  just  turned  sixty- 
five.  His  tall,  bony,  loosely  knit  frame  was  clad  in 
a  trig  suit  of  autumn  brown.  He  wore  brown  shoes 
and  a  white  felt  hat,  neatly  dented  across  the  crown. 
There  was  something  ineradicably  rustic  in  his 
awkward  figure,  with  flat,  clumping  feet,  and  hands  of 
which  every  finger  was  crooked.  His  mild  affecta 
tion  of  style,  therefore,  looked  incongruous.  His 
sallow  face  was  smooth-shaven  save  for  a  grizzly 
mustache  that  only  half  hid  his  thick  upper  lip. 
The  lower  lip  was  even  thicker,  and  his  long  chin 
receded  into  the  leathery  folds  of  tough  skin  under 
neath.  His  eyes  were  small,  gray,  set  close  up  to 

the  bridge  of  his  nose.     There  was  no  humor  in 

62 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  63 

them;  so  that  they  seemed  not  exactly  to  fit  the 
big,  rather  humorous  mouth  and  long  nose. 

Codley  was  rich  —  worth  half  a  million  —  and 
famous ;  but  of  late  his  acute  mind  had  pretty  ac 
curately  apprized  certain  signs  which  suggested  that 
he  was  becoming,  in  a  measure,  a  back  number.  He 
was  a  lawyer  who  had  always  secured  results.  But 
with  the  vague  drift  of  public  spirit  there  were  get 
ting  to  be  more  rich  clients  who  drew  the  line  at  jury- 
bribing,  subornation  of  perjury,  and  like  arts  which 
he  had  freely  practised  —  and  with  a  kind  of  open 
ness,  too.  His  one  daughter  was  getting  to  be 
decidedly  an  old  maid.  She  it  was,  chiefly,  who  had 
made  him  aware  that  a  scheme  of  social  selection  was 
afoot  in  which  money  did  not  count  for  everything. 
It  had  been  quite  a  tragedy  to  Mrs.  and  Miss  Codley 
when  the  Country  Club  blackballed  the  eminent 
barrister.  Miss  Codley  personally  had  no  particular 
eligibility ;  yet  it  had  seemed  too  much  —  an  over 
flowing  of  the  bitter  cup  —  when  Mrs.  Penrose  her 
self  had  invited  the  Schwartz  girls  down  to  her  lawn 
fete,  but  not  Miss  Codley.  The  result  of  all  this  was 
to  give  Old  Alphabet  a  fine  dash  of  malignancy. 

Nevertheless,  trudging  leisurely  down  Broadway, 
he  paused  to  give  a  silent  chuckle  over  a  newsboy 
who  was  producing  a  prodigious  volume  of  sound 
out  of  a  very  small  body;  and  he  tossed  the  boy  a 
dime.  Presently,  with  something  the  same  sort 
of  amusement,  he  halted  to  look  over  the  Sauganac 
Daily  News1  bulletin-board.  The  newspaper  was 


64  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

housed  in  a  shabby,  two-story  brick  building  toward 
the  lower  end  of  Broadway  —  where  it  began  to  trail 
off  into  out-at-elbows  regions.  The  lower  floor  was 
occupied  by  the  business  office.  Codley  clumped 
up  the  narrow  and  not  over  clean  stairs  that  led  to 
the  editorial  and  composing  rooms,  which  took  up 
the  second  story  and  were  divided  only  by  a  rickety 
pine  railing.  A  young  man  in  shirt  sleeves,  scrib 
bling  at  an  old  desk,  saw  the  lawyer,  nodded  genially, 
and  hastened  to  the  editor's  sanctum,  which  was  a 
kind  of  stall  partitioned  off  in  the  corner.  Julius 
Brown,  the  editor,  ran  out  with  extended  hand  and 
warm,  wide  grin. 

The  editor  was  a  kind  of  intellectual  and  spiritual 
protege  of  the  lawyer,  and  had  consciously  formed 
himself  on  that  eminent  model.  The  distillers, 
guided  by  Codley,  really  owned  the  controlling  in 
terest  in  the  paper.  Beside  the  littered  editorial 
desk,  with  the  door  shut,  Codley  sat  down  delib 
erately. 

"  Julius,  I  am  confronted  with  a  pious  task,"  he 
began  in  slow,  amiable  tones.  "I  think  you  can 
give  me  a  boost.  So  I  came  down  to  show  you  just 
how  the  ground  lies." 

The  editor  nodded,  rather  eagerly,  grinning  and 
turning  a  pencil  end  for  end  in  his  blunt  fingers. 

"All  the  big  distillers,"  Codley  continued,  in  his 
good-natured  drawl,  "are  going  into  a  trust.  It  will 
take  in  the  best  Illinois  concerns,  the  three  houses 
at  Nogiac,  some  in  Pennsylvania  and  Kentucky. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  65 

The  capital  will  be  up  in  nine  figures.     The  Wall 

Street  gentlemen  who  are  going  to  promote  it  and 

float  it  will  see  that  it's  large  enough.     Of  course, 

we'll  have  to  clean  up  a  score  or  so  of  little  concerns, 

scattered  over  the  country,  in  order  to  have  a  proper 

grip  on  the  trade.     This  plant  at  Sauganac  will  be 

included  in  the  cleaning  process.     Personally  I  like 

Dennis  O'Neill  tiptop,"  the  lawyer  went  on.     "But 

he  hasn't  been  doing  his  duty  as  a  patriot.     He 

shouldn't  have  let  that  fellow  Holmes  be  elected 

prosecuting   attorney.      It  mars  the   symmetry  of 

our  plans.     Dennis's  oversight  irritates  us.    So  we've 

been  giving  him  the  chastening  gaff  a  bit  of  late." 

Julius  nodded  again.     "I  know,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Codley,   amiably.     "We  thought  it 

would  be  right  to  knock  off  about  half  the  value  of 

his  plant  before  purchasing.     Dennis  took  it  hard. 

He's  rushed  off  to  Freddy  Hasbrook  and  given  him 

some    evidence    to    use    against    us.     That    wasn't 

friendly." 

"Freddy  being  an  ass,  anyhow,"  said  the  editor. 
"Exactly,"  Codley  replied.  "Freddy  being  an  ass. 
We  don't  apprehend  any  serious  difficulty  in  dealing 
with  Dennis.  We'll  take  away  the  rest  of  his  trade 
and  get  two  or  three  law-suits  started  to  muss  up 
his  credit,  and  he  will  see  the  light.  Dennis  is  a 
reasonable  man." 

Mr.  Codley  regarded  the  editor  a  moment  with 
sinister  little  eyes.  "It's  Freddy  Hasbrook  that  I'm 
after." 


66  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

"Hasbrook  is  an  ass/7  Julius  repeated,  with  em 
phasis. 

"He  thinks  he's  some  pumpkins/'  said  the  lawyer, 
"  having  a  good  deal  of  money  and  some  prestige, 
both  derived  solely  from  his  father.  He's  strong  on 
the  society  dodge,  you  know ;  very  four  hundredy. 
He  doesn't  approve  some  good  business  men  of 
Nogiac  who've  made  their  money  themselves,  in 
stead  of  letting  their  fathers  make  it,  and  who 
happen  to  be  in  the  whiskey  trade.  I  learn  that  he 
proposes  to  pitch  into  us  red  hot.  I  suppose  he 
wants  to  get  his  name  and  picture  in  the  papers, 
with  a  little  halo  over  it.  He'd  love  to  have  the 
ladies  cluster  about  his  manly  form  and  beg  him  to 
tell  'em  just  how  he  slew  the  naughty  distillery 
dragon.  I  told  Charlie  Schwartz  to  leave  Freddy 
entirely  to  me ;  that  I'd  guarantee  to  take  out  his 
little  tin  insides  and  lay  'em  along  the  sidewalk  for 
children  to  play  with.  I  have  a  score  or  two  of  my 
own  with  Freddy.  It's  a  labor  of  love  with  me." 

Mr.  Codley  strove  to  keep  his  voice  to  the  same 
level,  drawling,  amiable  manner;  but  in  spite  of 
himself  a  dull  color  touched  his  sallow  cheeks,  his 
eyes  lighted  ominously. 

"  Freddy  thinks  it  very  good  form  to  throw  bricks 
at  me,  in  his  top-lofty  manner  —  and  at  my  family." 
Old  Alphabet's  voice  was  heavy  with  passion  now; 
his  eyes  narrowed  to  burning  points.  "I'm  going 
after  Freddy." 

The  editor  felt  himself  somewhat  infected  by  the 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  67 

other's  smothered  wrath.  "  You'll  get  him,"  he  said, 
half  in  sympathy,  half  in  admiration. 

"I'll  get  him,"  Codley  repeated,  after  a  slight 
pause;  and  returned  more  to  his  normal  manner. 
"That's  where  I  need  your  valuable  assistance, 
Julius.  There's  a  girl  staying  at  the  Hasbrook  place 
part  of  the  time." 

Julius  ceased  turning  the  pencil  in  his  fingers  and 
thoughtfully  worried  his  mustache  a  moment.  "I 
don't  believe  there's  a  thing  in  that,"  he  said  quite 
low.  "She's  a  sort  of  ward  of  the  Senator  —  Win- 
throp  Holmes's  sister,  you  know.  I  don't  believe 
there's  a  thing  in  it." 

"Well,  maybe  not,"  Codley  replied  coolly.  "Still 
it  never  does  any  hurt  to  keep  an  eye  out.  I'll  have 
a  good  man  report  to  you  —  for  I  don't  care  to  be 
on  the  ground  myself.  Usually  there's  a  maid  or 
two  about  the  house  who'll  tell  what's  going  on  for 
a  reasonable  consideration.  We'll  just  keep  an  eye 
out.  Do  you  remember  that  old  story  about  Freddy 
and  a  milliner?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  it,"  said  Julius.  "Nellie 
Trescott  was  her  name.  She  used  to  keep  a  kind  of 
double-barrelled  store  up  on  Maple  Street  —  milli 
nery  in  one  side,  gent's  furnishings  in  the  other. 
She  went  away,  and  her  husband  got  a  divorce. 
Somebody  put  up  some  money,  for  the  husband  was 
in  funds  for  a  while.  He  was  killed  in  a  railroad 
wreck.  Nellie  went  West  —  out  to  Montana  as  I 
remember  it  —  and  married  again  and  died  seven 


68  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

or  eight  years  ago.  The  story  was  that  Fred  Has- 
brook  put  up  the  money  —  which  induced  the  good- 
natured  husband  to  let  Nellie  go  and  to  get  a  di 
vorce.  But  that  all  happened  twenty  years  ago, 
you  know." 

"Yes,"  said  Old  Alphabet,  and  sighed.  "It 
doesn't  sound  at  all  promising  —  a  youngster  and  a 
milliner,  twenty  years  ago."  He  drummed  thought 
fully  on  the  table  with  the  ends  of  his  fingers.  "I've 
discovered  this,  Julius,  in  my  long  and  energetic 
career  —  that  only  about  one  man  in  a  dozen  is  put 
together  all  snug  and  tight  without  any  loose  ends 
hanging.  The  other  eleven  —  if  you  just  keep  on 
looking  'em  over  carefully  enough,  by  and  by  you'll 
find  a  loose  thread  somewhere,  and  if  you  take  hold 
of  it  and  pull  with  proper  discretion,  you'll  soon 
have  him  all  unravelled  and  inside  out.  I'm  going 
to  checkmate  Freddy  this  trip,  and  I  won't  overlook 
any  ravellings." 

"There  are  two  Trescott  daughters,"  the  editor 
suggested.  "The  older  one  married  a  tin-horn 
gambler  named  Doane.  I  don't  know  where  the 
other  is.  By  the  way,  that  reminds  me.  Rexford, 
my  sporting  editor,  was  telling  me  the  other  day 
that  it  was  Doane  who'd  been  running  a  fake  policy 
shop  here  and  came  within  an  ace  of  getting  nabbed 
in  one  of  Holmes's  raids,  and  that  he  had  a  woman 
with  him.  It  might  —  possibly  —  have  been  his 
wife,  the  Trescott  girl." 

"Well,  look  it  up,"  Codley  replied.     "If  we  can 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  69 

get  hold  of  the  girl,  she  may  know  something  that'll 
help.  We  won't  overlook  any  ravellings.  I'll  have 
a  good  man  report  to  you  —  half  a  dozen  of  'em  if 
necessary.  Have  Rexford  see  if  he  can  locate  the 
tin-horn  one.  We  won't  overlook  any  ravellings." 

He  drummed  on  the  table  again.  "This  distillers' 
trust,  Julius,  means  a  good  many  hard  million  dol 
lars  to  my  clients.  They're  anxious  to  pull  it  off 
right.  The  people  in  Wall  Street  are  pretty  sore 
and  nervous  just  now  —  there's  been  so  much  trust- 
busting  talk  and  all  that.  They  don't  want  any 
rows  and  newspaper  hullabaloos  on  their  hands. 
They're  kind  of  hanging  back  on  this  distillery  affair 
because  they're  afraid  there  will  be  a  row.  So,  you 
see,  Hasbrook's  attack  came  at  an  inopportune 
moment.  Of  course,  with  his  money  and  prestige 
and  so  on  he  can  raise  a  good  deal  of  hell  if  he's  a  mind 
to.  It's  necessary  for  important  business  reasons  to 
choke  him  off  promptly.  And  then,  as  I  observed, 
it's  a  labor  of  love  with  me." 

"Oh,  you'll  get  him  all  right,"  said  the  editor, 
cheerfully. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"WHAT  is  it,  Annie  ?  "  called  Louise,  rather  sharply. 

" Nothing.  I  was  going  to  dust  the  vases,"  said 
the  girl,  and  disappeared. 

Louise  was  annoyed.  It  was  the  second  time  she 
had  caught  the  maid  slipping  past  the  door  and  peer 
ing  in.  One  couldn't  expect  the  servants  in  a  men's 
house  to  be  very  well  disciplined;  but  this  girl's 
overgrown  curiosity  was  displeasing. 

Louise  frowned  slightly  as  she  returned  to  her 
book.  She  was  sitting  in  the  front  room  of  the  right- 
hand  wing  —  the  one  Frederick  used  as  an  office. 
Her  book  looked  unpromising  enough.  It  was  a 
thick  volume  bound  in  blue  pasteboard,  and  it  con 
tained  the  report  of  a  congressional  committee  which, 
some  eight  years  before,  had  made  an  investigation 
of  the  distilling  industry.  It  might  yield  some 
ammunition  for  Frederick.  She  rested  her  elbow 
on  the  table  beside  the  fat  tome,  her  chin  in  her  palm, 
a  pencil,  ready  to  make  notes,  in  the  other  hand,  and 
resumed  reading.  Presently  she  was  aware  that 
some  one  stood  at  the  hall  door.  An  angry  sus 
picion  of  the  peeking  maid  disturbed  her  mind ;  but 
she  kept  on  reading.  Even  when  the  person  gently 
entered  the  room,  she  did  not  look  up,  for  she  did  not 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  71 

wish  to  be  interrupted.  It  was  only  when  the  in 
truder  had  stood  silently  beside  her  chair  a  moment 
that  she  did  look  up. 

Then  she  cried,  "Why,  Teddie!"  colored  with 
pleasure,  and  reached  both  hands,  laughing. 

The  young  man,  laughing  also,  kept  her  hands  a 
moment;  then  took  the  chair  beside  her.  He  was 
slender,  with  a  thin,  dark  face  that  seemed  to  laugh 
easily.  His  hair  was  fairly  black,  parted  in  the 
middle,  and  full  of  kinks  that  gave  a  foreign  sug 
gestion.  Whenever  he  smiled,  dimples  came  in  his 
lean  cheeks.  In  his  school  days  those  dimples  and 
the  kinky  hair  had  been  the  cause  of  many  a  gallant 
and  generally  disastrous  battle  —  for  sometimes  a 
boy  would  call  him  "sissy,"  which  always  meant  a 
fight.  The  shaven  beard  gave  a  bluish  tinge  to  the 
lower  part  of  his  face  and  his  slim  hands  bore  the 
mark  of  Esau.  He  was  not  effeminate ;  yet  in  look 
ing  at  him  one  thought,  what  a  stunning  girl  he 
would  have  made ! 

"When  did  you  get  home?  They  said  you'd  gone 
north  fishing.  What  luck?"  She  threw  the  ques 
tions  at  him  in  a  lump,  still  laughing  in  a  way  which 
both  made  a  joke  of  him  and  took  him  to  her  heart. 

Teddie  Penrose,  only  son  and  heir  of  that  house, 
laughed  with  engaging  frankness.  "As  for  luck,  I 
can't  fish  any  better  than  I  can  do  anything  else. 
But  I  had  a  good  time  forgetting  my  troubles." 

"But  you've  settled  down  here  now  —  gone  into 
business,"  she  said  in  a  more  earnest  tone. 


72  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

"Not  exactly,"  he  answered  lightly.  "I  seem 
not  to  get  the  hang  of  business.  I  was  about  ready 
to  chuck  it.  The  fishing  trip  was  a  sort  of  letting 
myself  down  easy.  I  say  !  Why  not  come  for  a 
spin?  I've  got  the  machine  out  here." 

She  knew  that  he  wished  to  talk  to  her.  "Let  me 
get  a  hat/7  she  replied,  and  arose. 

He  brought  something  back  to  her  —  association 
with  numberless  pleasant,  interesting  things;  an 
atmosphere  of  richly  appointed  ease  which  unwor 
thily  appealed  to  an  unregenerate  capacity  for 
luxury  in  her.  Even  as  she  walked  across  the  lawn 
with  him  and  climbed  into  the  expensive  car,  the 
mellow  air  of  that  indulgent  year  abroad,  with  all 
the  vulgar  little  annoyances '  of  life  brushed  away, 
wafted  itself  back  to  her.  Besides,  she  was  very 
fond  of  Teddie.  As  the  machine  rolled  smoothly 
forward,  she  sank  back  in  the  comfortable  seat  and  let 
herself  go  in  luxurious  enjoyment. 

Penrose  was  in  no  hurry  to  begin  his  talk.  He 
bubbled  gossipy  nonsense,  in  the  joy  of  having  her 
beside  him,  as  the  car  slipped  down  the  macada 
mized  road  into  asphalted  Overlook  Boulevard. 

"Lovely  joint!"  he  laughed,  as  they  rolled  past 
the  Penrose  castle  —  rather  small  for  a  castle  in 
everything  except  its  quality  of  stony  gloom,  as  it 
bullied  uselessly  over  its  gentle  lawn.  They  passed 
Mr.  Titus's  villa  and  Epperson's  colonial  mansion  — 
fruit  of  the  patent  medicines  —  and  other  dwellings 
of  the  town's  rich.  As  they  approached  the  business 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  73 

centre  the  houses  became  less  pretentious,  nearer  to 
gether.  Then  they  passed  the  Court  House  which 
stood  in  the  centre  of  a  little  plateau,  a  block  in 
extent,  at  the  toe  of  the  bluff  and  fifteen  feet  higher 
than  the  street  level.  The  building  was  a  three- 
story  sandstone  cube,  the  erection  of  which  had 
yielded  its  due  proportion  of  graft.  Thus  the  pur 
pose  of  the  row  of  granite  columns  across  the  front 
of  the  second  story  was  not  at  all  what  it  seemed  to 
be  —  namely,  to  darken  the  windows  —  but  to  give 
a  firm  of  stone  masons  a  profitable  job.  The  tall, 
square  clock-tower  also  had  been  a  lucrative  after 
thought  of  the  contractors.  Louise  was  not  think 
ing  of  the  graft,  however.  Her  heart  quickened  a 
little  as  she  looked  up  at  this  capitol  of  Mission 
County,  for  her  eyes  rested  on  the  windows  of  the 
prosecuting  attorney's  office  in  the  second  story. 

Leaving  the  pride  of  Broadway  to  the  left,  with 
the  towering  cornice  and  bare  flagpole  of  the  First 
National  Bank  Building,  they  turned  to  cross  the 
river.  The  street  railroad  was  building  its  new 
power-house  on  the  flats  along  the  river  bank. 
Otherwise  the  district  was  dingy. 

"  Blasted  Irishman !  "  Teddie  observed,  showing 
his  dimples  and  white  teeth.  He  was  looking  at 
the  big,  unfinished  power-house. 

Louise  laughed  back.  "  What's  Davy  been  doing 
to  you  now?  " 

"  Why,  he  runs  his  street  railroad  with  one  hand ; 
and  comes  over  every  now  and  then  and  puts  in  an 


74  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

odd  half  hour  pulling  my  little  shop  straight  —  just 
slopping  over  with  efficiency,  you  know!77 

She  laughed  again,  fondly,  knowing  the  old-time 
friendship  between  the  two  men. 

They  rolled  out  on  the  long  bridge.  Most  of  the 
city's  factories  huddled  on  the  other  bank.  A  huge 
sign,  surmounting  an  iron  roof  a  block  long,  said 
"  James  A.  Penrose  Stove  Works,  Largest  in  the 
World."  And  this  sign  was  repeated  on  half  a  dozen 
lesser  roofs.  But  crowning  all  was  a  colossal  struc 
ture  built  on  the  roof  of  a  big,  fort-like  edifice  and 
so  arranged  as  to  be  illuminated  with  electric  lights 
at  night.  Well  out  in  the  lake  one  could  read  its 
dual  legend:  "Fruit  Essences  for  Catarrh77 ;  "The 
Household  Remedy  for  Women.77 

"Epperson7s  got  the  right  idea,77  said  Teddie. 
"Fruit  Essences  is  mostly  cocaine  and  the  Household 
Remedy  is  sixty  per  cent  cheap  whiskey.  If  neither 
will  cure  you  alone,  mix  7em  together  and  be  happy ! 
A  pious  man,  too !  Builds  churches,  and  raised  the 
funds  for  Brother  Winthrop7s  reform  campaign,  you 
know!77 

"Winthrop  can7t  help  that,77  she  replied  soberly. 

"Honest  business  men  backed  him,  too.  I  chipped 
in  myself.  See  my  infant  industry?  There  she 
blows  —  right  at  the  tail  of  the  largest  in  the  world.77 

She  looked  where  he  indicated  and  saw  a  modest, 
rather  shabby  brick  shop  with  the  sign,  "Inland 
Queen  Bicycles.77 

"The  queen  looks  sort  of  dopey  herself.     Been 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  75 

taking  Fruit  Essences,  I  reckon/7  he  suggested,  as 
they  turned  and  began  climbing  the  hill  whose 
shoulder  rapidly  shut  out  the  view  of  the  factories. 

"You  know  I  got  into  a  pretty  fierce  mess  in 
Florence,"  he  said  abruptly,  and  with  a  quite  sober 
frankness.  She  recalled  that  his  departure  thence 
had  seemed  precipitate.  "Of  course,  father  paid 
the  shot.  There's  never  any  trouble  about  that. 
But  it  rather  put  me  in  a  way  of  thinking  I  could 
see  my  finish,  so  I  decided  to  try  living  over  here. 
Father  turned  this  little  plant  over  to  me.  I  sup 
pose  he'd  foreclosed  on  it  or  found  it  lying  loose  in 
the  back  yard.  My  idea  is  there's  no  use  of  a  fellow 
living  in  this  country  unless  he  can  do  business. 
The  loafing  is  pleasanter  on  the  other  side.  Honest 
Injun,  Lou,  I've  worked  like  a  nailer  at  this  little 
one-horse  bicycle  plant ;  but  it  don't  come  out  right. 
I  can't  get  the  hang  of  it.  I'm  just  a  joke  to  the  men 
there." 

"Oh,  but  you  will  get  the  hang  of  it,  Teddie ! 
You'll  get  the  experience  with  time.  That's  what 
you  need !  That's  what  you  lack  —  some  experi 
ence;  and  just  biting  hard  on  the  bit  and  wading 
straight  in  !  You  can  do  it !  Oh,  I  know  you  can  !" 
she  declared  with  a  warm  conviction. 

He  looked  ahead,  gravely.  "I'm  afraid  not,  Loie. 
I  could  cram  for  an  exam  —  if  I  had  to,  you  know. 
I've  got  some  brains.  I  can  play  bridge  first-rate. 
But  I  haven't  got  even  a  poor  imitation  of  executive 
ability.  Now,  Davy,  you  know  —  what  he  says 


76  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

to  his  men  goes,  for  they  know  he  knows.  They 
know  I  don't  know,  and  the  men  and  the  whole  busi 
ness  simply  play  horse  with  me.  I  hate  giving  it 
up,  too,  because  it  would  be  so  easy  for  father  to  do 
it  that  he  can't  understand  how  I  could  fail  if  I  really 
tried  my  best.  It  will  tend  to  confirm  his  previous 
opinion  that  I'm  not  much  good.  That  means  a 
pension  and  more  loafing."  He  looked  at  her  with 
a  slight,  rather  wan  smile.  "  Which  isn't  really  good 
for  me." 

"  Don't  you  give  it  up,  Teddie !  Don't  you  do  it, 
old  man !  Wade  straight  in !  I  know  you  won't 
faH  finally  !  Stick  to  it,  Ted  ! "  He  fairly  felt  the 
energy  that  her  words  suggested,  and  the  ardent 
good-will  like  a  brave  arm  thrown  around  his 
shoulders. 

"Yes.  You  could  do  it,  Loie!"  he  said.  "My 
education  wasn't  commercial.  I  fell  to  mother, 
you  know.  Possibly  she  made  a  gentleman  of  me. 
Father  stood  aside  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  as 
he  does  about  the  high-priced  jimcracks  mother 
buys  abroad.  It  isn't  altogether  my  fault  that  I 
can't  run  a  bicycle  factory.  It's  so  comforting  to 
blame  somebody  else!"  He  smiled  again. 

"You  can  make  it  go!  It  needs  only  time  and 
patience.  I'm  sure  you  can  make  it  go,  Ted,"  she 
affirmed  eagerly.  "Davy  will  give  you  a  lift,  in 
getting  started  right,  whenever  you  need  it !  I  know 
he  will !"  She  had  hardly  meant  to  speak  with  that 
authority  of  him. 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  77 

"Yes,  Davy  can  do  it  for  me,  and  will,"  he  re 
plied.  "But  what  good  is  that?  It  isn't  running 
it  myself.  So  I've  fired  him  out  of  it."  He  looked 
around  at  her.  "I  need  a  boss,  Lou;  but  not  Davy 
-  for  I  hate  him  some,  too." 

She  knew  of  old  the  odd,  impersonal  sort  of  jeal 
ousy  that  lay  in  his  warm  friendship  for  the  abler, 
stronger  man.  It  was  exactly  like  him  to  mention 
it  now,  when  almost  any  one  else  would  have  striven 
to  conceal  it.  The  little  confession  touched  her  in 
timately.  He  was  sweet  and  open.  As  a  matter 
of  course,  she  loved  him  in  a  way.  There  had  been 
moments  before  when  the  mother  in  her,  and  her 
generous  will  to  sacrifice  and  her  militant  will  to 
make  herself  felt,  all  arose  to  him.  She  could  be 
very  fond  of  him  and  keep  him  up  to  his  best.  She 
had  even  an  odd  sort  of  detached  judgment  which, 
so  far  as  it  went,  quite  coincided  with  what  she  knew 
to  be  Mrs.  Penrose's  able  judgment  of  their  mutual 
eligibility. 

"I  surely  need  a  boss.  Some  day  you  may  take  the 
job!"  He  spoke  smiling.  Twice  or  thrice  before 
he  had  said  something  to  the  same  effect ;  but  it  was 
unnecessary.  His  whole  attitude  expressed  it  —  a 
kind  of  open-handed,  good-humored  offering  of  him 
self,  as  though  he  mostly  knew  it  out  of  the  question, 
yet  stuck  to  a  hope  that  she  might  one  day  take  him. 

No  reply  was  needed.  She  simply  let  a  decent 
little  pause  intervene ;  then  said,  "  Speaking  of  bosses, 
when  is  your  mother  coming  out?" 


78  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

He  accepted  it  good-naturedly.  "Next  month. 
You  know  Sister  Titus  and  Brother  Bascom  have 
decided  to  give  an  orthodox  horseshow.  I  suppose 
it  appeals  to  mother's  sense  of  humor.  At  any  rate 
she  writes  that  she's  coming  out  then.  Father  has 
some  Englishmen  whom  he's  going  to  take  West  to 
show  a  railroad.  They'll  kill  the  two  birds  with  one 
stone." 

"I'd  heard  of  the  horseshow,"  she  replied,  half 
absently.  In  fact  she  was  looking  ahead,  with  in 
terest.  The  roadside  view  ahead  included  a  tall 
hedge,  with  a  triumphal  entrance  arch  of  pine, 
painted  red,  white,  and  blue,  and  ornamented  with 
a  string  of  Chinese  lanterns.  The  sign  on  the  arch 
said,  "Schmidt's  Family  Garden."  A  single  pursy 
figure  sat  forlornly  beneath  the  arch,  and,  recogniz 
ing  Teddie  as  they  sped  by,  waved  a  mournfully 
hospitable  arm. 

"Good  thing  he  didn't  know  you,"  said  Teddie. 
"He'd  have  run  for  a  gun." 

This  was  the  beer  garden  that  Winthrop  had  closed. 
She  turned  in  the  seat  to  glance  back  at  the  foe. 
The  battle  was  all  about  them ! 

Coming  back,  as  they  slipped  down  to  the  bridge, 
she  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"Don't  give  it  up,  Teddie.  You  can  do  it.  I 
want  to  see  you  pull  through." 

It  was  different  from  the  way  she  had  spoken 
going  out  —  in  a  way  softer,  more  intimate,  because 
more  decidedly  sisterly.  He  realized  it  and  smiled, 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  79 

and  let  out  the  machine  in  defiance  of  the  sign  that 
warned  against  speeding  on  the  bridge. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  bridge,  as  they  sped  and 
turned  to  ascend,  four  men  stepped  from  behind  a 
pile  of  brick  where  the  new  power-house  was  build 
ing.  Three  were  in  workmen's  dress,  the  other 
pointing.  They  were  so  close  that  the  wind  of  their 
car  fluttered  his  coat,  and  a  long  thrill  pulled  at 
Louise's  nerves.  Not  that  he  had  been  in  any  danger, 
and  she  did  not  care  about  mere  business  efficiency, 
but  the  little  fleeting  picture  of  him  directing  his 
men  was  oddly  suggestive.  For  a  moment  she  let 
herself  dream,  and  see  him  at  an  outpost,  the  light 
of  a  watchfire  on  his  tanned  cheek.  There  would 
be  none  braver  than  he. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  horseshow  was  held  in  the  big  shell  of  the 
incomplete  street  railroad  power-house.  Prepara 
tions  for  the  tremendous  society  event  considerably 
interested  the  female  and  juvenile  population  of  the 
dingy  neighborhood.  The  prevailing  adult  male 
attitude  was  expressed  by  the  bartender  of  the  United 
States  Hotel,  who  declared  that  he  wouldn't  be 
caught  dead  with  such  a  bunch. 

The  hotel  was  half  a  block  up  the  street  from  the 
power-house.  It  had  seen  better  days,  although  its 
best  days  were  nothing  to  boast  of.  Some  of  its 
guests  came  solely  because  of  economy,  others  be 
cause  its  slovenly,  down-at-the-heel,  out-at-elbows 
air  corresponded  with  the  general  scheme  of  their 
lives,  and  there  was  a  certain  delicate  suggestion 
about  the  place  which,  to  the  initiated,  conveyed 
a  comforting  idea  that  the  police  didn't  trouble  them 
selves  overmuch  about  it.  It  was  perfectly  natural, 
for  example,  that  Mrs.  Harris  Doane  should  select 
it  for  her  brief  sojourn  in  her  native  city.  She  looked 
like  a  woman  who  belonged  there.  Like  the  hotel, 
she  had  seen  better  days,  but  they  had  been  nothing 
in  particular  to  boast  of.  She  had  grown  rather 
stout  and  flabby.  There  was  something  pathetic 
in  the  brittle,  chemical  yellow  of  her  hair. 

80 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  81 

She  sat  at  a  third-story  window,  rocking  and 
chewing  gum  with  equal  violence,  a  feline  wrath 
darkening  her  fleshy  face  and  snapping  in  her  brown 
eyes. 

"You  always  was  stubborn  as  a  mule!  You 
always  used  me  like  a  dog,  too  !"  Her  complaining 
voice  rose  with  her  anger.  "If  I  can  make  a  dollar, 
what  you  want  to  stand  in  my  way  for?  I  ain't 
ever  done  anything  to  you,  have  I?  Fine  sister 
you've  been  to  me !" 

Fanny  Trescott  looked  steadily  out  of  the  other 
window  without  replying,  her  own  face  dark  and 
stony. 

"Can't  you  speak,  numbskull?"  Mrs.  Doane's 
voice  climbed  to  a  sort  of  shriek  under  the  intoler 
able  exasperation  of  her  sister's  stubborn  silence. 
"What  you  got  against  Wes  Wogan?" 

"He's  a  drunken  bum,"  Fanny  replied,  low.  "I'll 
not  show  my  mother's  letters  to  him  or  to  anybody 
like  him."  She  looked  over  at  the  elder  woman 
then,  her  fine  black  brows  drawn  together.  "Tell 
me  the  truth.  What  do  you  want  of  those  letters  ?  " 

"I  tol'  you  what  I  wanted  of  'em!"  Mrs.  Doane 
struggled  to  keep  herself  measurably  in  hand.  "Fan, 
I  tol'  you  all  about  it  when  I  first  saw  you  down 
there  in  Tennessee."  She  flew  out  violently  again. 
"What  business  is  it  of  yours,  anyhow?  She's  as 
much  my  mother  as  she  is  yours,  ain't  she?  I  got 
a  right  to  them  letters!" 

This  outburst  was  met  by  a  return,  on  Fanny's 


82  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

part,  to  the  stony  silence;  and  the  sister  struggled 
again  —  under  the  handicap  of  a  very  poor  set  of 
nerves  —  to  get  control  of  herself.  "It's  just  as  I 
tol'  you,  Fan/7  she  complained.  "Doane's  got  some 
money  now;  and  I  can  jump  him  and  get  some 
alimony;  but  I  gotta  be  in  a  position  to  prove  the 
handwriting  of  them  letters.  If  you'd  give  'em  to 
me,  or  just  loaned  'em  to  me,  as  I  wanted  you  to, 
there  wouldn't  'a'  been  all  this  expense.  I'll  give  'em 
back  to  you,  Fan."  She  was  almost  whimpering  now. 

"I  told  you,  Jennie,"  Fanny  replied.  "The  letters 
ain't  in  mother's  hand." 

"That's  just  it!"  Mrs.  Doane  returned,  with  an 
eager  showing  of  hope.  "That's  just  what  I  gotta 
prove.  Wogan's  got  some  of  mother's  hand  and 
some  of  mine,  and  if  I  can  satisfy  him  them  letters 
ain't  in  mother's  hand  or  in  mine,  he'll  go  ahead  and 
jump  Doane  and  get  me  some  alimony.  Blame  it 
all,  Fan,  what  you  afraid  of  ?  I  don'  ast  you  to  give 
me  the  letters.  Just  go  to  Wogan's  office  with  me 
and  show  'em  to  him.  You  promised  you  would." 

"I  didn't  know  you  meant  Wes  Wogan,"  Fanny 
answered.  "I  supposed  you  meant  some  decent 
lawyer  —  or  I  wouldn't  have  come  here  with  you. 
Wogan's  a  bum.  I  won't  show  him  the  letters." 
She  turned  suddenly,  anticipating  the  flow  of  rage. 
"Mother  couldn't  hardly  speak  when  she  gave  'em 
to  me.  I  won't  show  'em  to  Wogan.  He  ain't 
respectable." 

This   seemed   too   much   for   Mrs.   Doane's   poor 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  83 

nerves.  "He  wasn't  never  caught  running  a  policy 
shop,  was  he?" 

Fanny's  lips  parted.  Evidently  she  was  startled. 
Mrs.  Doane  perceived  it,  and  realized  that  she  had 
betrayed  herself.  Her  own  confusion  caused  her 
to  turn  her  face  to  the  window,  for  a  long,  self- 
reproachful,  panicky  moment. 

"Well,  of  course,  if  you  won't,  you  won't,  Fan," 
she  presently  said,  soothingly.  "It's  a  good  six  or 
seven  hundred  dollars  to  me ;  but  I  suppose  you 
know  best."  She  spoke  sisterly,  and  added,  "Guess 
they're  going  to  have  a  good  crowd  to  their  horse- 
show."  Indeed,  a  stream  of  people  flowed  down  the 
street,  brilliantly  lighted  for  this  once;  carriages 
passed,  and  occasionally  an  automobile. 

Fanny  saw  the  people ;  but  they  did  not  interest 
her.  Her  whole  mind  had  leapt  to  an  alarmed  alert 
ness  at  her  sister's  careless  taunt. 

Her  non-legal  understanding  had  never  been  able 
to  extract  from  Jennie's  voluble  but  vague  expla 
nations  just  why  it  was  so  necessary  for  the  elder 
sister  to  have  possession  of  those  old  letters  in  order 
to  get  her  divorce  from  Doane  —  at  this  goldenly 
propitious  moment  when  he  was  in  fund  and  could 
be  made  to  yield  some  alimony.  Jennie  had  said 
that  Doane  knew  about  the  letters  and  would  accuse 
her  of  having  written  them  and  so  defeat  her  bill  for 
divorce.  Fanny  herself  knew  that  Doane  knew 
better,  although  she  did  not  care,  in  conversation 
with  Jennie,  to  touch  upon  anything  connected  with 


84  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

the  policy-shop  episode;  and  she  conceived  that 
Doane,  while  knowing  better,  might  easily  lie  about 
it.  She  would  not  give  Jennie  the  letters;  yet  she 
was  loath  to  have  it  upon  her  conscience  that  she 
had  stood  in  the  way  of  her  sister  getting  some 
alimony.  Finally,  although  she  couldn't  exactly 
understand  it,  she  consented  to  come  to  Sauganac 
with  Jennie,  the  elder  sister  having  offered  to  pay 
expenses. 

She  had  consented  because,  if  she  could  help 
Jennie,  she  felt  bound  to  do  it,  and  not  because  she 
had  been  able  to  work  out  a  very  clear  or  satisfac 
tory  hypothesis  as  to  the  real  usefulness  of  the  letters 
in  her  sister's  cause. 

Doane  knew  about  the  letters.  From  whom,  save 
Doane,  could  Jennie  have  learned  about  the  policy 
shop  ?  She  could  not  see  what  Doane  wanted  of  the 
letters  any  more  than  she  could  see  what  Jennie 
wanted  of  them.  The  idea  that  he  did  want  them 
took  possession  of  her  alarmed  mind.  As  a  matter 
of  course,  Doane  wouldn't  want  them  for  any  re 
spectable  purpose.  She  was  an  outlaw  in  Sauganac, 
subject  to  arrest  and  imprisonment,  she  supposed; 
hence  not  in  a  position  to  summon  the  aid  of  the  law. 
She  felt  herself  in  a  trap. 

"It  looks  as  though  they'd  have  a  good  crowd," 
she  said,  looking  out  of  the  window. 

"Folks  must  be  hard  up  for  a  way  to  blow  in  their 
dough,"  Jennie  commented,  and  added,  genially: 
"I'm  awful  thirsty.  Le's  have  a  bottle  of  beer." 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  85 

"I  don't  want  any  beer,"  Fanny  said. 

"Come  on.  A  glass  won't  hurt  you,"  Jennie 
enticed.  "I'm  dry  as  a  fish.  It'll  make  you 
sleep  better."  She  arose,  as  to  ring  the  bell. 

A  single,  bare  gas-jet  flared  in  the  room,  giving  a 
somewhat  uneven  light.  And  it  seemed  to  Fanny 
that,  by  this  light,  she  saw  something  lurking, 
catlike,  in  Jennie's  eye. 

"You  drink  the  beer  if  you  want  to,"  she  replied. 
Her  heart  was  beating  faster.  She  was  aware  that 
a  single  glass  of  beer  sometimes  exerted  a  tremen 
dous  soporific  influence. 

"Pshaw!"  Jennie  exclaimed  petulantly;  and 
resumed  her  seat,  with  a  flounce.  But  she  kept 
herself  in  hand.  "We'll  have  to  get  up  early," 
she  observed,  after  a  moment. 

"Yes,"  said  Fanny.  "There's"  —  her  voice  died 
away  for  an  instant.  "There's  a  lot  of  people  going 
to  the  show."  Staring  down  at  the  people,  with  an 
active  mind,  she  thought  it  was  Mr.  Harris  Doane 
whom  she  had  seen  on  the  opposite  corner,  looking 
up  at  their  windows.  The  figure  swiftly  disap 
peared,  however.  She  seemed  to  feel  a  trap  closing 
in  around  her;  and  the  packet  of  letters  in  her 
breast  appeared  to  beat  with  the  throbbing  of  her 
heart. 

"Let's  go  to  the  show,"  she  said  suddenly. 

"Not  any,"  Jennie  replied  with  disgust. 

"Come  on,"  Fanny  coaxed.  "I  never  saw  a 
horseshow.  It  only  costs  half  a  dollar  to  get  in. 


86  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

I'm  going  to  take  a  look  at  it."  She  stood  up. 
"Then  we'll  drink  our  beer  and  go  to  bed,"  she 
added  artfully. 

"What  do  you  want  to  go  there  for?"  Jennie 
demanded,  regarding  her  dubiously,  and  at  a  loss. 

"Just  to  take  a  look  at  it  a  few  minutes.  I've 
got  just  seventy  cents.  Might  as  well  blow  it  in. 
Then  we'll  drink  our  beer  and  go  to  bed."  She  was 
already  putting  on  her  hat. 

Mrs.  Doane  was  displeased.  It  was  true,  how 
ever,  that  Fanny  had  only  a  little  change,  and  her 
bag  was  in  the  room.  She  didn't  know  exactly  how 
to  prevent  the  excursion. 

"Don't  stay  long,  Fan,"  she  cautioned,  com- 
plainingly.  "I'm  tired  as  a  dog.  I  want  to  go  to 
bed  early." 

"I  won't,"  said  Fanny,  as  she  went  out. 

Emerging  upon  the  street  she  gave  a  swift  glance 
about.  She  believed  she  was  watched  —  probably 
by  Doane.  It  was  with  this  idea  in  mind  that  she 
turned,  on  the  opposite  corner,  smiling  and  waving 
her  hand  in  ostentatious  greeting  to  the  third-story 
window  where  she  had  left  Jennie.  Then  she  went 
on  with  the  crowd ;  paid  her  half  dollar,  and  entered 
the  show. 

Even  under  these  circumstances,  she  had  an 
humiliated  consciousness  that  her  skirt,  jacket,  and 
hat  were  rather  shabby  —  for  she  had  been  very  fru 
gal  since  she  took  the  job  in  Tennessee.  She  made 
a  poor  figure  in  the  crowd.  She  had  not  dared 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  87 

walk  by  the  entrance  without  going  in,  for  fear 
Doane  was  following  her  —  perhaps  prepared  to 
have  her  taken  in  custody  by  one  of  his  thievish 
police  friends.  She  thought,  once  inside  the  build 
ing,  she  could  find  a  way  to  slip  out  again.  Her 
forlorn  position  blent  with  her  shabby  clothes  to 
give  her  a  kind  of  homesickness  as  she  looked  upon 
the  gala  scene. 

Almost  the  first  person  she  saw  whom  she  knew 
was  Ted  Penrose,  standing  near  the  entrance  with 
two  other  young  men,  all  three  in  evening  dress. 
She  stood  aside,  her  eyes  upon  him,  catching  at  the 
straw.  He  saw  her  in  a  moment  and  instantly 
came  up,  with  a  gay  smile,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"Well,  well!  Come  home  for  the  show,  Fanny? 
That's  a  right  idea!" 

11  Could  you  lend  me  fifteen  dollars,  Ted?  I 
want  to  get  home  and  I  haven't  any  money."  She 
said  it  gravely;  but  without  a  blush  or  a  wavering 
of  her  large,  dark  eyes,  laying  her  need  before  him 
in  a  kind  of  nobly  simple  nakedness. 

"Good  old  friend!  Why  wouldn't  I  lend  you  all 
you  want?  What  else  is  the  money  for?"  He  too 
spoke  gravely,  under  the  sudden  generous  emotion, 
and  as  simply  as  herself. 

A  faint,  grateful  smile  touched  her  eyes  and  lips. 
She  had  known  him  a  long  time,  even  when  she 
was  a  dining-room  girl  in  Donovan's  hotel.  He 
had  always  been  fine  to  her  —  the  finest  of  any 
man  she  ever  knew.  She  understood  him,  too. 


88  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

He  was  fine  to  her  because  she  had  to  work  for  a 
living;  because  the  edge  of  necessity  made  her 
footing  difficult.  Exactly  that  in  her  condition  which 
put  her  at  a  disadvantage  and  so  tempted  some 
men  to  try  to  trip  her  made  this  man  hold  out  the 
firm  hand  of  a  friend.  He  had  that  kind  of  chivalry. 
Plenty  of  other  men  —  David  Donovan,  for  example 
—  had  been  nice,  kindly,  even  generous  to  her. 
But  with  them  it  was  a  sort  of  comraderie.  They 
all  belonged  in  a  way  to  the  same  big  working  army ; 
and  they  did  not  touch  her  imagination  as  did  this 
figure  from  what,  to  her,  was  a  different  sphere. 

Ted  laughed.  "  Lucky  it's  only  an  imitation 
horseshow,  or  I'd  be  broke  myself.  But  come 
have  a  look  at  it  now  you're  here.  Might  as  well. 
You  must  get  the  worth  of  your  money,  you  know." 
He  laughed  again.  "  Brother  Bascom  is  having  his 
own  troubles  getting  the  thing  started." 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  show  indeed  lagged.  The  idea  of  it  origi 
nated  with  Mrs.  Titus,  wife  of  the  president  of  the 
First  National  Bank.  She  had  seen  the  exhibition 
in  New  York  the  year  before,  and  her  placid  mind 
was  untroubled  by  any  doubt  that  Sauganac's 
show  was  essentially  the  same  thing  on  a  reduced 
scale  and  an  elevated  moral  plane. 

The  banker's  lady  weighed  two  hundred.  She 
had  a  large,  good-humored  face  lighted  by  dull  but 
handsome  brown  eyes,  and  a  fine  double  chin. 
Modesty  forbade  her  to  wear  the  conventional  even 
ing  toilet ;  and  a  multiplicity  of  jet  ornaments,  over 
her  ample,  silk-covered  bosom,  moved  with  its  power 
ful  undulations  and  murmured  a  kind  of  blissful 
content  as  she  promenaded  on  the  arm  of  Mr. 
Epperson,  junior  —  a  negligible  person,  of  his  dis 
tinguished  father's  lank  build,  but  without  that  per 
son's  ability.  His  most  noticeable  feature  was  an 
exaggerated  Adam's  apple.  His  self-consciousness 
was  expressed  in  a  nervous,  furtive  fingering  of  his 
white  tie.  Every  time  he  swallowed  the  Adam's 
apple  climbed  his  stringy  neck,  peered  over  the  top 
of  his  shiny  collar,  then  dived  down,  as  not  liking  the 
view.  The  self-consciousness  of  Mrs.  Titus,  on  the 

89 


90  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

other  hand,  was  bland,  joyous.  Her  eyes  roved 
complacently  over  the  gathering  which  her  talents 
had  evoked.  She  bowed  as  amiably  to  persons  on 
the  highest  tier  of  benches  as  to  those  in  the  single 
row  of  boxes.  This  impenetrable  satisfaction  greatly 
disturbed  some  ladies  up  aloft.  One  of  them  moaned 
to  her  companion :  — 

"Oh,  the  cow!  She  hasn't  even  sense  enough  to 
know  it's  a  joke!  She  can't  see  that  Mrs.  Penrose 
is  laughing  at  her !" 

Mrs.  Penrose,  however,  was  not  laughing,  but 
smiling  with  the  highest  good  humor.  Her  box  was 
the  centre  of  the  show.  Every  one  looked  at  her. 
Many  women  speculated  as  to  what  her  simple 
dull-black  gown  really  cost.  She  was  at  once  a 
triumph  and  a  defeat.  She  held  herself  with  erect 
grace.  The  firm,  smooth  white  neck  carried  her 
shapely  head  at  a  daintily  imperious  poise.  Her 
dark  eyes  sparkled  with  life ;  and  her  figure  kept  the 
lines  of  a  supple  girl.  Even  the  silvery  powdering 
of  her  hair,  above  the  vivacious  face,  was  a  charm 
in  itself.  One  thought,  "A  beautiful  woman!" 
That  was  a  triumph,  for  her  son  was  twenty-six. 
Yet  there  were  sharply  marked  lines  from  her 
delicately  arched  nose  downward.  The  perfect 
rose  had  departed  from  her  clear  complexion.  Her 
hair  was  turning  gray.  Time  had  touched  her. 
That  was  the  defeat.  One  thought,  "What  must 
she  have  been  at  twenty!" 

Her  husband,  a  solid  and  powerful  man,  some- 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  91 

what  heavy-looking  in  evening  clothes,  sat  behind 
her  and  talked  across  the  box  rail  with  Mr.  Titus 
and  Mr.  Epperson.  The  handsome  banker  wore  that 
chastened  air  which  he  always  put  on  with  this 
penitential  evening  garb.  He  had  no  opinion  of  the 
show  except  that  it  was  one  of  those  trying  di 
gressions  from  business  to  which  a  good  husband 
must  dutifully  submit.  He  knew  that  his  wife  was 
capable  in  managing  her  household  and  that  she 
had  a  solid  understanding  of  business.  The  idea 
that  she  was  socially  inept  never  occurred  to  him; 
the  subject  itself  had  no  interest  for  him.  He  and 
Epperson  were  discussing  with  Mr.  Penrose  a  plan 
for  buying  the  electric  light  company  and  con 
solidating  it  with  the  street  railroad.  The  young 
superintendent,  David  Donovan,  had  evolved  the 
plan  and  was  urging  it  upon  them. 

As  it  was  Mrs.  Titus's  horseshow  a  certain  respon 
sibility  devolved,  ex-officio,  upon  Mr.  Bascom. 
Nothing  could  have  been  more  innocent  than  the 
partnership  between  this  pair.  Together  they  ran 
the  First  Presbyterian  Church,  and  whatever  else 
came  within  range.  Mr.  Bascom  was  now  in  the 
paddock,  bustling  and  perspiring  over  the  belated 
arrangements  for  bringing  in  the  horses.  Unfor 
tunately,  the  citizen  who  combined  a  thorough  under 
standing  of  horses  with  high  moral  qualities,  and 
who,  therefore,  had  been  selected  by  Mrs.  Titus  to 
superintend  this  incident  of  the  enterprise,  had 
fallen  ill  at  the  last  moment.  Landlord  Donovan 


92  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

had  been  available,  but  there  was  a  certain  broad 
flavor  of  conviviality  in  the  landlord's  character 
which,  while  it  by  no  means  disqualified  him  for 
contributing  liberally  to  the  show,  made  it  unmeet 
that  he  should  be  distinguished  by  participation  in 
the  management.  In  this  crisis  Mr.  Bascom  had 
resorted  to  the  heroic  expedient  of  hiring  a  pro 
fessional  horseman;  but  to  his  consternation  the 
expert  had  appeared  far  gone  in  liquor,  and  now 
sat  boozily  dozing  in  the  corner  —  a  hideous  monu 
ment  to  human  frailty.  Landlord  Donovan  had 
good-naturedly  responded  to  the  cry  for  help,  and 
was  now  rapidly  reducing  chaos  to  order  in  spite  of 
Mr.  Bascom's  excited  and  misapplied  assistance. 

During  the  wait  Mrs.  Penrose's  mischieviously 
roving  dark  eyes  lighted  upon  a  pair  near  the  en 
trance.  She  turned  to  Louise. 

" Who's  that  with  Ted?"  she  asked. 

Louise  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  questioner's 
glance,  and  puzzled  a  moment,  with  a  vague  dawn 
ing  of  alarm. 

"It's  surely  Fanny  Trescott,"  she  said. 

"Trescott?"  Mrs.  Penrose  regarded  her  ques- 
tioningly. 

" Surely,  it's  Fanny  Trescott,"  Louise  repeated, 
and  added :  "  Perhaps  you  remember  a  Mrs.  Trescott 
who  kept  a  millinery  shop  here  long  ago.  This  is 
her  daughter." 

The  mischief  quite  died  out  of  Mrs.  Penrose's 
eyes.  A  subtle  settling  took  place  in  the  beautiful 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  93 

face.  She  seemed  to  forget  those  with  her.  Her 
eyes  steadily  followed  the  slowly  moving  pair. 
Presently  she  surprised  Louise  with  an  abrupt  ques 
tion  :  — 

"She  doesn't  live  here,  does  she?" 

It  took  Louise  a  moment  to  remember  whom  she 
meant.  Then  she  said,  "I  think  not.  I  believe 
she's  living  somewhere  in  Tennessee  —  working  in 
a  sort  of  sanitarium.  I  hear  she's  capable." 

Mrs.  Penrose  appeared  not  to  have  heard  the  last. 
Her  eyes  had  returned  to  Ted  and  his  friend.  By 
now  she  could  see  the  girl's  face  clearly.  Ted  looked 
up  at  the  box  with  a  gay  smile. 

Louise  spoke  to  her.  "Here  are  the  Senator  and 
Frederick." 

Mrs.  Penrose  turned  from  Ted  and  Fanny  then  to 
find  the  other  pair ;  smiled  and  nodded  to  them ;  then 
beckoned.  Father  and  son  came  up  to  the  box 
obediently ;  were  made  known  to  young  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Osborne  of  New  York.  Frederick,  it  seemed, 
already  knew  Mr.  Varnum,  who  appeared  to  be 
rather  especially  Mrs.  Penrose's  young  cavalier. 
In  the  urbane  chatter  a  slight  indication,  given  by 
a  faint  motion  of  Mrs.  Penrose's  shapely  head,  put 
Frederick  in  Mr.  Varnum's  chair  at  her  side. 

"We'll  have  a  horseshow  twice  a  year,  if  it  will 
bring  you  out,  Betty,"  he  said,  as  he  took  the  seat. 

"Once  a  year  is  plenty,"  she  replied  in  a  voice 
lower  than  his  own;  still  lower  she  said,  "Nellie 
Trescott's  daughter  is  here." 


94  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

"Yes?"  he  replied  softly.  "I  supposed  the  earth 
had  swallowed  her  up/' 

"Ted  has  her  here,"  she  said,  her  shoulder  almost 
touching  his.  "Find  out  what  he's  doing  with  her." 

"I  will,  Betty,"  he  answered  very  soberly. 

They  sat  so  close  together  that  she  could  not  very 
well  look  at  him;  but  he  could  look  down  at  her 
beautiful  head  and  shoulders.  In  spite  of  the  silvery 
powdering  of  her  hair  she  might  still  have  been  a 
girl.  "I'll  find  out  at  once,"  he  repeated. 

The  band  struck  up.  Some  horses  came  in  — 
quite  successfully.  The  show  was  beginning.  When 
Mrs.  Penrose  looked  about,  Teddie  and  his  companion 
had  disappeared. 

The  show  seemed  well  enough ;  but  Louise  was 
quick  to  detect  that  it  was  not  a  success  for  Mrs. 
Penrose.  That  imperious  lady's  humorous  zest 
for  it  seemed  to  have  evaporated.  Louise  was  not 
surprised  when  the  hostess  proposed  going  home, 
therefore,  at  the  intermission. 

When  they  got  outside,  a  fresh  vexation  awaited. 
The  chauffeur  was  on  hand ;  but  the  car  was  gone. 
Ted  had  taken  it.  Mr.  Penrose  accepted  it  philo 
sophically  ;  but  Mrs.  Penrose  was  hardly  at  pains  to 
conceal  her  ill-humor.  While  they  were  debating 
whether  to  go  inside  again,  the  missing  car  appeared 
up  the  street,  going  at  a  good  speed,  with  Ted  alone 
in  the  driver's  seat. 

"Hello?  Kept  you  waiting?"  he  sang  out  ami 
ably,  as  he  swung  up  to  the  curb.  "Had  to  take  a 
friend  to  the  railroad  station." 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  95 

He  saw  his  mother's  sparkling  eye,  and  met  it 
with  a  brilliant,  mischievous  smile.  "I  supposed 
you'd  be  enthralled  with  the  show/'  he  laughed  as 
he  sprang  out. 

The  party  entered  the  car,  and  made  room  for  him. 
"No,  thank  you,"  he  said.  "I  couldn't  think  of 
missing  the  rest  of  the  show."  He  was  looking  at 
his  mother  as  he  said  it,  and  laughing  mischiev 
ously  —  telling  her  plainly  enough  that  he  preferred 
to  wait  until  she  had  forgotten  her  provocation. 

They  left  him  at  the  curb,  like  a  spoiled  but  still 
sweet-tempered  youngster  enjoying  the  joke  of  his 
mother's  vexation.  Mrs.  Penrose  knew  he  laughed 
at  her,  and  loved  him  and  wished  to  box  his  ears. 

"  Speed  up,"  she  called  impatiently  as  they  turned 
into  the  boulevard.  The  chauffeur  obeyed,  and  the 
unlawful,  thirty-mile  gait  stopped  conversation. 

Louise  had  taken  the  front  seat.  She  bent  her 
head  to  the  wind  which  whipped  in  little  stinging, 
pleasantly  exciting  lashes  under  the  furs  about  her 
neck.  She  heard  the  honk  of  the  horn,  a  shout; 
felt  the  quick  swerve  of  the  machine ;  then  a  crash 
and  an  impact  which,  however,  was  so  light  that  it 
scarcely  unsettled  her  seat.  The  machine  slowed 
and  turned.  She  saw  the  wreck  of  a  peddler's  cart 
which  a  decrepit  and  terrified  nag  was  trying  to  drag 
up  the  terrace  to  Mr.  Epperson's  lawn.  The  street 
was  strewn  with  apples,  in  the  midst  of  which  a 
man  sat  up  and  loosened  a  stream  of  objurgation  in 
the  accents  of  sunny  Italy. 


96  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

"He's  all  right/'  said  Mrs.  Penrose.  "It's  always 
such  a  relief  when  they  begin  to  swear.  You  know 
they're  not  hurt  much.  Give  our  name  and  drive 


on." 


Her  good-humor  seemed  mysteriously  restored  by 
the  accident.  The  potent  name  was  called  back. 
The  car  described  another  circle  and  rolled  home 
ward. 

"A  very  neat  shot,  Webster,"  said  the  hostess. 
"I  must  brush  up  on  Italian.  I  could  understand 
only  three  of  the  names  he  called  us." 

The  chauffeur  explained  that  the  cart  came  from 
a  side  street  and  the  panic-stricken  driver  countered 
his  effort  to  avoid  it.  But  Mrs.  Penrose  paid  no 
attention  to  the  explanation. 

"Sober,  Loie?"  she  asked.  "It's  a  perfectly 
fair  game,  you  know.  Out  in  the  country  they  throw 
stones  at  us  and  put  broken  bottles  in  the  road,  and 
in  town  we  bowl  'em  over!" 

She  leaned  toward  Louise  as  she  spoke,  and  gave 
her  gloved  hand  a  little  squeeze.  The  street-lamp 
showed  her  beautiful  face,  animated  with  a  dazzling 
smile.  Louise  felt  the  rush  of  her  high  gay  spirits. 
In  spite  of  all  there  was  a  great,  sparkling  fountain 
of  life  in  her ;  she  lived  immensely. 

Louise  herself  laughed  indulgently.  She  was 
relieved.  All  along  her  mind  had  been  oddly 
troubled  over  the  incident  of  Fanny  Trescott's 
appearance  —  or,  rather,  over  the  way  Mrs.  Penrose 
had  taken  it.  In  the  case  of  another  woman  she 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  97 

might  have  explained  this  simply  enough  on  the 
ground  of  solicitous  motherhood,  or  on  a  social 
ground.  But  she  was  too  well  acquainted  with 
Ted's  social  gregariousness  and  with  Mrs.  Penrose's 
catholicity  to  suppose  the  mother  would  be  par 
ticularly  disturbed  merely  because  she  had  caught 
the  son  running  around  with  a  handsome  dining- 
room  girl.  She  herself  would  have  thought  nothing 
of  seeing  Ted  with  Fanny  if  it  had  not  been  that 
Mrs.  Penrose's  manner  so  powerfully  suggested  some 
thing  back  of  it. 

She  was  in  that  attitude  toward  Ted  where  cer 
tain  things  would  have  been  a  poignant  grief  to  her. 
She  told  herself  that  Ted  would  tell  her  the  story — 
if  he  had  a  story  that  would  bear  telling.  So  when 
he  telephoned  to  her  early  the  next  afternoon,  her 
heart  lightened.  And  when  he  appeared  before  her, 
boyish,  debonair,  there  was  a  secret  sweetness  in 
feeling  that  he  was  just  what  she  had  believed  him 
to  be.  She  asked  him  plumply  how  he  came  to  be 
with  Fanny,  and  he  told  her  the  whole  circumstance 
with  his  usual  frankness.  It  was  even  better  than 
she  had  thought.  She  had  never  been  fonder  of  him. 

This  was  a  Saturday,  and  Mrs.  Titus  was  giving  a 
repetition  of  her  horseshow  —  more  particularly 
for  farmers  and  the  proletariate.  Ted's  telephone 
message  had  proposed  that  mild  diversion,  and  he 
had  driven  over  for  her  in  a  runabout.  It  was  a 
splendid,  crisp  autumn  day.  Her  mood  expanded 
and  mellowed.  They  tacitly  forgot  the  horseshow 


98  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

and  drove  across  the  river.  The  country  roadside 
was  strewn  with  maple  leaves,  but  the  trees  were 
still  rich  with  them.  Some  still  vistas,  where  the 
overhanging  leafage  was  shot  with  sunshine,  and 
dust-particles,  arising  from  the  empty  road,  glinted 
in  the  light,  seemed  made  of  gold.  The  rolling 
country  had  yielded  its  fruit  and  grain  and  rested 
peacefully.  The  man  and  woman  felt  near  to  each 
other. 

They  went  back  to  the  horseshow  finally,  and 
entered;  but  it  was  nearly  over.  People  were 
already  leaving.  They  encountered  David  Donovan 
there.  It  was  Ted,  rather  than  Louise,  who,  in  a 
happy  hospitality,  took  him  into  their  company. 
David  did  not  please  her  then.  She  had  thought 
about  him  too  much  and  too  troublously  of  late. 
He  did  not  fit  the  day.  It  was  good  sometimes  to 
dream,  with  a  well-liked,  perfectly  tractable  friend 
at  one's  side  and  nothing  to  disturb  one's  peace. 

Still,  coming  out  of  the  show,  it  was  her  impulse 
which  proposed  that  they  walk,  which  permitted 
David  to  continue  of  the  party.  She  surrendered 
her  jacket  to  Ted  and  her  spirit  was  more  with  him 
than  with  the  other  as  they  strolled  leisurely  on, 
in  a  mood  where  what  anybody  said  made  no  par 
ticular  difference.  She  paused,  without  explanation, 
to  take  in  a  view  up  the  pleasant  valley.  This  same 
tranquillity  to  which  she  now  wilfully  gave  herself 
seemed  to  lie  up  there.  In  an  idling,  half-formless 
way  she  was  thinking,  "Why  not  live  with  it?" 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  99 

A  line  of  Omar's  came  into  her  head.  She  smiled, 
for  her  abstraction,  at  Ted,  then  at  David,  and  they 
started  on  leisurely.  They  had  taken  a  little-fre 
quented,  badly  paved  street  halfway  up  the  ascent 
that  led  from  the  shelf  of  bottom  land  along  the 
river  bank  to  the  boulevard  on  the  brow  of  the  bluff. 
Just  ahead  of  them  lay  an  intersecting  street,  also 
not  much  used  because  the  grade  was  too  steep  for 
comfort  and  the  cobblestone  pavement,  designed 
to  give  horses  a  better  footing  for  the  stiff  up-pull, 
was  rough  and  broken.  Glancing  upward  she  hap 
pened  to  see  a  big  cherry-colored  car  flash  by  on  the 
boulevard.  She  thought  it  was  the  machine  they 
had  gone  to  the  horseshow  in,  and  was  about  to 
comment  on  it,  when  they  all  heard  a  shout,  which 
was  taken  up,  repeated,  cut  with  a  scream.  A  pair 
of  powerful  horses  drawing  a  heavy  farm  wagon 
shot  into  view  at  the  head  of  the  street  and  plunged 
down  its  stony  steep  in  a  runaway.  They  were  fairly 
at  the  street  corner  then.  They  saw  the  farmer 
tugging  bravely  but  uselessly  at  the  lines  and  a  child 
clinging  to  his  arm.  It  looked  like  death. 

The  picture  that  hung  in  Louise's  paralyzed  mind 
then  showed  these  lightning-like  motions:  Teddie, 
with  an  ashen  face  and  wide,  staring  eyes  that  held 
the  soul  of  fear,  thrusting  her  jacket  into  her  hands 
and  starting  forward;  David  springing  after  him, 
catching  his  arm  at  the  curb  and  pulling  him  violently 
back ;  holding  him  firmly  while  the  runaway  hurtled 
thunderously  by.  She  drew  breath  as  she  realized 


100  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

that  the  driver  had  managed  to  avoid  a  hole  in  the 
pavement.  The  breath  still  trembled  on  her  lips 
when  one  horse  fell,  horribly ;  the  wagon  swerved 
and  crashed  against  the  curb ;  man  and  child  shot 
out  of  the  wreck.  The  flying  shutters  that  revealed 
the  picture  in  her  brain  slowed  their  motion.  People 
were  running  from  all  sides.  David  trotted  for 
ward.  Her  numbed  faculties  resumed  their  func 
tions.  She  was  seeing  now  and  understanding.  A 
mangled  horse  lay  in  the  road.  She  sank  against 
the  low  stone  wall  that  held  the  terrace  of  the 
hillside  lot  and  put  her  hands  over  her  face.  When 
she  looked  up,  Teddie  was  sitting  on  the  curb,  his 
elbows  on  his  knees,  his  face  in  his  hands.  She 
was  sick  all  over,  and  vaguely  struggled  against  the 
assailing  faintness.  The  people  about  the  wreck, 
now  grown  to  a  craning  crowd  that  quite  filled  the 
street,  were  clamoring.  Two  policemen  had  come 
up.  A  minute  later  David  came  slowly  and  soberly 
up  the  steep  street. 

"  What  it  is,  Davy  ?     Are  they  hurt  ?  "  she  moaned. 

"  Pretty  bad,  Lou,"  he  said,  low  and  gravely. 

"The  little  boy?"     Her  voice  broke  in  a  sob. 

"Bad.  Pretty  bad/7  he  replied  in  the  same  low, 
grave  way;  and  he  added,  even  lower,  "His  head, 
you  know." 

Her  body  writhed  with  the  intolerable  torment 
of  her  sympathy.  She  hardly  knew  that,  standing 
over  her,  he  reached  his  cool,  muscular  hands  and 
she  clung  to  them. 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  101 

"Davy!  Couldn't  you  have  done  anything?" 
she  wailed,  and  again  sobbed  aloud. 

"There  wasn't  a  chance  in  the  world,  dear,"  he 
said  simply.  "Not  on  that  grade,  with  that  team 
and  wagon.  No  man  could  do  it." 

She  knew  he  spoke  the  truth,  and  bent  her  head 
over  her  hands  —  and  his. 

"Everything  is  being  done,  Loie.  Shan't  I 
send  for  a  cab?"  he  said,  as  one  comforting  a  child. 

She  waited  a  moment,  pulling  herself  together. 
"No,  I'll  walk,"  she  said  weakly;  and  got  to  her 
feet,  helping  herself  by  his  hand.  His  other  hand 
touched  her  waist  lightly,  supportingly.  She  swayed 
a  little  to  him,  and  righted  herself. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  they  were  aware  of  Teddie, 
standing  in  the  gutter,  ghostly  white,  looking  at 
them. 

"Come  on,  old  man,"  said  David.  They  went 
very  slowly  up  the  street,  still  living  in  the  heart 
of  the  tragedy.  When  they  came  out  on  the  boule 
vard,  David  looked  back,  down  the  steep  and  stony 
course  the  wagon  had  taken. 

"He  made  a  good  fight,"  he  said.  "He  got  them 
past  that  hole.  He  made  the  best  fight  he  knew." 

Both  of  them  comprehended  that  he  was  hardly 
speaking  to  them,  nor  exactly  to  himself ;  but  rather 
more  to  the  spirit  of  that  other  man  and  of  all  men 
who  went  down  making  the  best  fight  they  knew. 

Meanings  of  the  picture  were  coming  in  upon 
Louise's  mind.  She  knew  that  Teddie  had  been 


102  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

mortally  afraid.  A  romantic  concept  of  chivalry  — 
perhaps  a  pang  of  that  odd  jealousy,  lest  David 
should  go  first  before  her  eyes  —  had  sent  him  for 
ward.  In  this  abrupt  intrusion  of  the  elements  of 
life  and  death,  at  the  end  of  her  dreaming  day, 
David  had  been  the  competent  actor.  She  had  a 
strange  feeling  that  if  the  gallant  farmer  could 
choose,  it  would  be  David's  sympathy  that  he  would 
value  most,  although  David  had  prevented  Ted  from 
trying  to  stop  the  horses. 

Teddie's  brain,  also,  was  helplessly  appraising  the 
drama.  At  the  further  side  of  the  boulevard  he 
halted,  with  a  wan  smile. 

"Davy  will  get  you  home,"  he  said.  "I'll  take 
a  street-car." 

She  wished  to  prevent  it ;  to  make  him  feel  that 
he  had  an  assured  place  at  her  side.  But  he  had 
seen  her  clinging  to  David's  hands  —  the  same  hands 
that  had  held  him  back  from  useless  destruction. 
She  said  nothing;  but  walked  on  with  David. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  runaway  received  due  attention  at  the 
hands  of  Julius  Brown's  Daily  News,  which  com 
mented  solemnly  upon  the  recklessness  of  some 
owners  of  automobiles.  Julius  was  disappointed, 
however.  He  heard  that  Frederick  Hasbrook  was 
in  the  car,  and  purposed  printing  his  picture  with 
appropriate  headlines.  But  investigation  showed 
the  report  of  Frederick's  presence  was  false.  Julius 
rather  needed  a  chance  to  insult  Frederick  just  then, 
for  another  enterprise  had  turned  out  badly.  He 
explained  it  to  Old  Alphabet. 

"Rexford  located  Doane  all  right/'  said  the 
editor,  "and  got  that  letter  from  him."  He  nodded 
to  a  missive  that  lay  upon  the  editorial  table  at  the 
lawyer's  hand,  —  the  same  that  Doane  had  stolen 
from  Fanny.  "Of  course,  Doane  himself  couldn't 
do  anything  about  it,  for  Fanny  Trescott  would 
be  leery  of  him.  With  Doane's  help  your  able 
sleuth  located  the  older  sister  —  the  wife  of  Doane's 
bosom.  He  offered  her  two  hundred  dollars  and  ex 
penses  if  she'd  land  the  other  letters.  The  loving 
sister  got  Fanny  up  here  and  was  going  to  dope  her 
and  take  the  letters;  but  Fanny  slipped  away." 

"Which  was  not  sisterly,"  said  Old  Alphabet. 

103 


104  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

He  had  a  certain  humorous  appreciation  of  the 
matter.  "The  letter  is  certainly  in  Freddy's  hand." 
He  picked  up  the  old  love  letter,  and  laughed 
amusedly  at  one  of  its  ardent  phrases. 

"  Wesley  Wogan  was  up  to  see  me  the  other  day," 
the  editor  observed  with  a  discursive  interest. 
"It  seems  Mrs.  Doane  thought  she  could  get  Fanny 
to  show  Wesley  the  letters  and  had  offered  him  a 
ten  to  swipe  them  for  her.  I  suppose  she  told  him 
about  Rexford  being  in  it  and  Wogan  figured  I  was 
behind  Rexford.  Anyhow,  he  wanted  me  to  give 
him  the  job  of  getting  the  letters." 

"I  didn't  know  Wesley 'd  been  as  sober  as  that  of 
late,"  said  Codley,  amiably. 

"He's  a  mighty  smart  fellow,"  the  editor  com 
mented.  "Of  course,  he's  an  awful  booze-fighter." 

The  lawyer  drummed  thoughtfully.  "I  might 
have  a  talk  with  him,  if  nothing  else  turns  up," 
he  said  incidentally;  "I  think  we'll  have  friend 
Dennis  in  a  reasonable  frame  of  mind  before  long. 
If  not,  we'll  have  him  in  bankruptcy.  There's 
so  much  money  at  stake  that  we've  simply  expunged 
the  word  'fail'  from  our  bright  lexicon.  But  I 
want,  Julius,"  he  added  with  an  exceeding  quiet 
ness,  "I  want  very  much  to  land  Freddy  right. 
And  we  don't,  so  far,  turn  up  anything  very  promis 
ing." 

"That's  so,"  the  editor  assented,  and  looked  grave. 

"Well,  we'll  keep  on  trying,"  said  Old  Alphabet. 
"We'll    keep    on    trying.     With    patience,    Julius, 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  105 

there  isn't  much  that  you  can't  do.     We  will  keep 
on  trying." 

Mr.  Codley's  patience  was  even  then  about  to 
undergo  a  severe  trial  from  a  derangement  of  his 
plans  which  originated  in  an  unexpected  quarter. 
Within  a  week  after  his  conference  with  Julius  — 
it  was  the  night  before  Thanksgiving  —  the  blow 
fell. 

David  spent  the  evening  at  the  Hasbrook  place, 
Louise  being  there.  She  had  been  staying  there 
several  days.  Frederick's  comprehensive  legal  at 
tack  upon  the  distillers  was  progressing.  It  more 
and  more  absorbed  her.  She  could  not  keep  her 
impatient  fingers  out  of  it.  She  had  put  in  three 
days  digesting  a  comparative  showing  of  alcohol 
prices.  Very  likely  Hammond,  Frederick's  secre 
tary,  or  some  other  equally  available  person  could 
have  done  it  better;  but  she  would  not  be  denied. 
The  idea  that  she  was  helping  in  the  good  fight  gave 
her  happiness.  The  happiness  made  her  serene. 
Besides,  since  the  day  of  the  horseshow,  her  attitude 
toward  David  had  passed  to  a  new  phase.  She  did 
not  wish  to  contend  with  him  just  now.  She 
waited,  hoping. 

At  parting  from  him  that  evening  before  Thanks 
giving,  she  said,  "  Dennis  has  turned  over  all  the 
evidence  he  will,  hasn't  he?" 

"I  suppose  he  can't  go  much  further  that  way," 
he  replied.  He  understood  the  quiet  hint  that  his 


106  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

usefulness  to  Dennis  in  a  capacity  which  was  also 
useful  to  Frederick,  and,  therefore,  more  or  less 
justifiable,  was  nearly  at  an  end.  The  time  was 
coming  when  he  must  elect  to  be  of  Dennis  O'Neill's 
camp  or  of  her  camp.  "You  see/'  he  explained 
unhappily,  "  they're  pushing  the  old  man  pretty 
hard,  Loie.  He's  a  good  deal  in  debt  and  they're 
righting  him  on  every  corner.  He  even  thinks  they 
wouldn't  hesitate  to  blow  him  up  or  hit  him  over 
the  head.  I  don't  think  that ;  but  it  is  a  kind  of 
life-and-death  fight  for  him."  He  meant,  How 
could  he  turn  his  back  on  the  good  old  grafter  in 
such  straits?  But  he  did  not  say  it;  and  she  said 
nothing.  Just  now  she  did  not  wish  to  contend  with 
him.  She  waited,  hoping. 

It  rather  dashed  him  as  he  went  out;  but  his 
spirits  recovered.  He,  too,  waited,  with  a  great 
hope.  Loie  couldn't,  at  present,  see  it  just  right; 
wouldn't  admit  that  all  the  good  wasn't  on  one  side 
and  all  the  bad  on  the  other.  She  allowed  nothing 
for  old  Dennis's  warm  heart.  She  refused  to  confess 
—  what  she  must  know  —  that  the  old  grafter  and 
corrupt  politician  was  a  much  lovelier  person  than 
Epperson,  with  his  cocaine  and  cheap  whiskey  on 
one  hand  and  his  bigotry  on  the  other.  But  she, 
too,  had  a  warm  heart. 

He  chose  to  walk,  for  it  was  clear  and  cold.  The 
stars  shone  with  the  brilliance  of  a  winter  night. 
An  arc  street-lamp  ahead  made  a  dazzlingly  white 
blur  in  the  lower  dark  and  sharply  revealed  the 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  107 

bare  black  branches  of  the  near-by  trees.  Passing 
the  Penrose  house  he  noticed  that  it  was  again  dark 
and  deserted.  The  mass  of  its  shadows  indefinitely 
pleased  him,  like  the  stars,  the  bare  trees,  and  the 
vigorous  motion  of  his  own  limbs.  It  seemed  an 
excellent  world.  In  this  harmony  he  entered  the 
hotel  and  happened  to  notice,  as  he  stepped  over 
to  the  elevator,  that  it  was  ten  minutes  past  eleven. 
In  his  own  room  he  had  turned  up  the  lights  and 
thrown  off  his  hat  when  the  telephone  began  ringing. 
His  gay  "  Hello  !"  was  answered  by  Dennis  O'Neill's 
voice :  — 

"That  you,  Davy?  I  been  trying  to  find  you 
this  twenty  minutes.  Both  my  watchmen  are  dead 
drunk.  I  think  they've  been  doped.  I'm  alone  at 
the  plant.  I  want  you,  lad." 

" Drunk?"  David  repeated. 

"Laid  out  stiff  in  Krauss's  back  room.  I  always 
come  down  and  take  a  look  around  before  I  go  to  bed. 
I'm  thinking  there's  going  to  be  something  doing  the 
night,  Davy.  I  want  you."  The  old  man's  heavy 
voice  showed  uneasiness. 

"I'll  be  there,"  said  David. 

There  was  no  doubt  in  his  mind  as  to  what  he 
should  do.  Before  he  caught  up  his  hat  he  turned 
to  the  desk  and  opened  a  lower  drawer.  A  revolver 
lay  there.  He  looked  to  see  that  it  was  loaded  and 
was  putting  it  into  his  overcoat  pocket ;  but  paused, 
regarded  the  murderous  implement  an  instant,  and 
put  it  back  in  the  drawer.  Someway  he  was  think 
ing  of  Louise. 


108  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

Louise  herself  looked  at  the  tranquil  night  from 
her  chamber  window  before  she  went  to  bed.  To 
her,  also,  it  seemed  a  good  world ;  and  in  the  morning 
she  wilfully  gave  herself  over  to  the  day  —  Thanks 
giving,  the  home  festival,  the  feast  of  the  turkey. 
Kittie,  of  course,  was  to  be  the  hostess.  The  Has- 
brooks  were  coming.  Leaving  the  house  directly 
after  breakfast,  Louise  warned  them  to  be  early. 
She  was  to  be  an  assistant  priestess,  an  initiate  of  the 
rites.  At  Winthrop's  house  she  rolled  up  her  sleeves 
and  put  on  one  of  Martha's  huge  gingham  aprons. 

It  was  a  little  past  noon  when  the  three  toiling 
votaries  in  the  kitchen  heard  the  men  enter. 

Kittie  stepped  into  the  hall  and  shook  a  floury  fist 
at  them.  "How  dare  you  come  so  early?  You 
won't  stand  the  ghost  of  a  show  against  us  unless 
you  get  up  more  appetite.  Go  back  and  run  around 
the  block !" 

Louise,  behind  her,  brandished  a  big  iron  spoon. 
But  even  then  she  noticed  that  David  was  not  with 
them,  and  that  Hammond,  Frederick's  secretary, 
was.  Frederick  called  back,  "Come  see  the  fire 
works,"  and  held  up  a  round  quart  bottle  filled  with 
a  thick,  whitish  liquid.  Winthrop  seemed  solemn 
and  absorbed. 

Wondering,  the  two  women  followed  the  men  into 
the  study.  Frederick  threw  up  the  window,  took 
a  sheet  of  writing  paper  from  the  desk,  and  spread  it 
on  the  sill.  Then  he  uncorked  the  bottle  and  poured 
a  little  of  the  whitish  stuff  on  the  paper.  It  spread 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  109 

slowly ;  then  suddenly  burst  into  a  fierce  blue  flame. 
They  watched  it  burn  viciously.  Frederick  shoved 
the  paper  outside  and  closed,  the  sash.  "Phospho 
rus,"  he  said.  "We'll  have  it  analyzed."  He  set 
the  bottle  on  the  desk. 

"The  great  point,"  said  Winthrop,  "is  to  keep  the 
fellow  hid  and  get  a  confession  out  of  him." 

"I  think  he  will  be  kept  close  enough  where  he  is," 
Frederick  replied. 

"But  what  is  it?"  Kittie  exclaimed. 

"An  attempt  to  burn  Dennis  O'Neill's  distillery," 
Frederick  explained.  "His  two  watchmen  were 
given  drugged  liquor  last  night.  Two  men  broke 
into  the  plant  about  one  o'clock.  Each  had  a 
bottle  of  this  stuff,  one  had  bit  and  auger.  A  hole 
bored  in  a  tank  full  of  spirits,  and  these  bottles 
emptied  on  the  floor  some  distance  away;  would 
make  a  very  good  time  fuse.  Five  minutes  after 
the  leaking  spirits  reached  the  fire  the  plant  would  be 
a  wreck.  The  men  seem  to  have  crawled  in  through 
a  chute  to  the  cattle-sheds.  At  any  rate  they  came 
across  Dennis  up  there  and  promptly  knocked  him 
senseless  with  a  slung-shot.  But  Davy  was  there." 

"Davy?"  Kittie  murmured. 

"Dennis  had  telephoned  for  him  when  he  found 
the  watchmen  drugged.  I  suppose  he  had  a  sharp 
tussle  with  the  men.  One  of  them  got  away.  He 
captured  the  other.  This  is  a  state  secret,  you 
understand." 

"But  where  is  Davy?"    Kittie  insisted. 


110  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

"Why,  the  other  bottle  of  this  infernal  stuff  was 
broken  in  the  scuffle.  Davy  got  into  it  a  bit.  One 
hand  and  arm  are  burned  some.  We  couldn't  per 
suade  him  to  come  along,  with  his  bandaged  arm  and 
his  laurels. " 

The  Senator  chuckled  softly.  "David  is  a  shabby 
hero  —  after  the  event.  He  seems  quite  down 
hearted  about  the  laurels.  He  said  one  disabled 
slugger  wouldn't  be  missed." 

It  occurred  to  Louise  —  not  because  he  spoke  to 
her,  but  because  he  seemed  to  take  care  to  look 
away  from  her  —  that  the  sharp  old  Senator  sus 
pected  something. 

"I  won't  have  it!"  Kittie  declared.  "I'll  go 
for  him  myself !" 

"I'll  go,"  said  Louise. 

The  Senator  looked  at  her  then,  with  a  benevo 
lent  smile.  She  heard  Kittie  saying,  "Call  a  cab, 
Winthrop." 

She  went  into  the  kitchen  to  take  off  her  apron, 
whither  Kittie  followed  her.  "It's  room  three  hun 
dred  twenty,  Lou.  Don't  let  him  get  away.  He's 
a  mule  for  stubbornness,"  she  cautioned. 

Up  to  the  time  she  climbed  the  broad  steps  that 
led  to  the  hotel  door,  Louise  had  not  even  thought 
of  proceeding  in  any  but  a  conventional  manner  — 
by  going  to  the  parlor  and  sending  up  her  card.  It's 
room  three  hundred  twenty,  Kittie  had  said,  and 
this  innocent  numeral  seemed  suddenly  to  take 
possession  of  her.  She  walked  calmly  across  the 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  111 

office,  entered  the  elevator,  and  asked  for  the  third 
floor.  In  the  same  way  she  went  down  the  corridor, 
looking  at  the  numbers  on  the  doors.  It  was  only 
when  the  number  she  sought  confronted  her  that 
her  heart  began  to  beat  up,  and  her  nerves  to  flutter. 
She  thought,  vaguely,  "I'll  say  Kittie  sent  me"; 
and  the  sisterly  wing  rather  comforted  her.  She 
knocked  on  the  door. 

"Come,"  said  David's  voice  within. 

She  waited  an  instant,  confused,  uncertain,  and 
knocked  again. 

"Come  in,"  David's  voice  called  more  peremp 
torily. 

Her  own  odd,  foolish,  schoolgirl  embarrassment 
confused  her  the  more.  She  turned,  ready  to  flee 
to  the  office  and  send  up  a  card.  But  those  in  the 
office  had  already  seen  her  come  upstairs.  With  a 
desperate  resolution  she  opened  the  door. 

It  was  half  a  sitting  room,  half  an  office.  David 
sat  in  a  leather-covered  chair  over  by  the  desk, 
looking  impatiently  at  the  door.  His  left  hand  and 
arm  were  bandaged.  He  sprang  up  in  a  kind  of 
panic.  It  came  to  her  then  that  in  crossing  his 
threshold  she  had  burned  some  bridges ;  and  he 
looked  actually  afraid  of  her.  That  look  of  down 
right  fear  stilled  her  own  nerves,  lifted  her  up,  gave 
her  joy.  She  laughed,  low  and  sweet. 

"You  can't  get  away,  Davy  !     I've  come  for  you  !" 

In  a  sort  of  panicky  awkwardness,  like  an  acutely 
self-conscious  boy,  he  fumbled  at  an  excuse. 


112  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

"I'm  not  very  presentable  —  with  these  ban 
dages." 

"Oh!     Are  you  getting  vain?' ' 

She  had  gone  near  to  him.  He  looked  down  into 
her  sweet,  laughing  eyes. 

"I  suppose  I  must  be."  He  did  not  know  exactly 
what  he  was  saying. 

"You'll  have  no  reason  to  be  if  you  keep  Kittie's 
dinner  waiting."  For  her,  also,  what  was  said  did 
not  matter.  The  words  were  so  many  poor  little 
screens,  blindly  thrown  out  as  though  they  could 
hide  the  emotions. 

The  male,  prosecuting  his  siege  with  desperate 
valor,  sees  a  sudden  weakness,  a  sign  of  surrender, 
and  is  overwhelmed  with  fear  at  his  own  fortune. 
The  woman  grows  brave,  steps  out  and  claims  her 
own.  Both  of  them  understood  that  something  like 
this  had  happened,  and  set  up  a  thrilling  tumult  in 
their  hearts.  What  they  said,  at  the  moment,  did 
not  matter.  The  place  was  half  public,  for  the  hall 
door  was  open.  She  gave  him  a  lift  as  he  got  one- 
sidedly  into  his  overcoat.  They  went  down  and  out 
to  the  waiting  cab. 

"It  wasn't  what  you  wanted,  Loie,"  he  began, 
without  prelude,  when  the  cab  started.  "I  wanted, 
very  much,  to  have  everything  —  what  you  wanted." 

"His  life  was  in  danger,"  she  replied.  "There's 
no  politics  in  that.  Did  you  think  —  really  —  I'd 
charge  it  up  against  you?"  His  fear  of  her  judg 
ment  made  her  singularly  tender.  She  was  alive 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  113 

to  a  certain  physical  sense  of  him  —  his  bulk  and 
fighting  thews.  Still  he  feared  her  ! 

"I  wanted  everything  to  be  as  you  wanted,"  he 
repeated. 

"It  was  a  good  fight !"  she  answered,  low.  Then 
she  colored  —  half  aware  of  the  aboriginal,  unre- 
generate  female  in  her  that  loved  the  male  for  his 
strength  and  courage  and  skill  at  combat.  "Tell 
me  about  it  —  just  what  happened!" 

He  told  her  how  he  had  gone  to  the  distillery ;  he 
and  Dennis  had  separated  for  a  tour  of  the  plant; 
he  had  heard  the  sound  of  the  intruders;  stalked 
them  and  attacked  them. 

"It  should  have  been  simple  enough,  you  see/7  he 
explained.  "I  knocked  one  of  them  down.  The 
other  had  a  slung-shot.  The  bottle  broke  and  that 
stuff  took  fire.  Of  course,  if  anything  was  to  be 
done,  there  was  no  time  to  lose.  So  I  cracked  his 
head  with  the  big  bolt  I'd  picked  up  and  smothered 
the  fire  with  my  overcoat." 

It  was  not  at  all  dramatic  as  he  told  it.  But 
now  she  wished  to  keep  him  to  this  story.  In  a 
rather  mysterious  way  she  was  taking  shelter  behind 
her  fortifications  again.  "Is  the  man  much  hurt?" 
she  asked,  as  soon  as  his  voice  ceased. 

"Yes,"  he  answered  soberly;  and  turned  his  head 
to  look  into  her  face.  "I  hit  him  harder  than  I 
needed  to.  I  was  in  a  kind  of  rage  against  it  all, 
Loie.  Slugging  a  man  in  old  Dennis's  distillery  — 
it  was  so  far  from  what  had  been  in  my  mind  when 


114  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

I  left  you  a  little  while  before.  I've  been  mixed  up 
in  a  good  many  coarse  kind  of  things,  you  see.  When 
I  left  you,  Loie,  I  seemed  to  see  it  was  going  to  be 
rather  different  in  the  future  —  more  as  you  would 
wish  it  to  be.  But  there  I  was  slugging  a  man  in 
Dennis's  distillery.  I  hit  him  harder  than  I  needed 
to.  The  doctor  doesn't  say  so,  but  I  have  an  idea 
he  may  die.  You  won't  like  that." 

Her  throat  contracted  in  a  little  spasm  and  her 
breath  stopped.  A  man  to  die  at  his  hands !  She 
recoiled  from  it,  and  trembled.  She  put  forth  all 
her  courage  and,  so  to  speak,  dragged  herself  bodily 
up  to  the  mark.  Her  wide  eyes  scarcely  saw  him, 
but  her  hand  reached  out  and  found  his. 

"You  were  within  the  law  and  the  right.  It  was 
necessary  —  to  attack  him.  Don't  think  I'll  charge 
it  against  you  —  if  he  dies."  In  spite  of  herself  her 
voice  weakened.  "He  will  not  die,"  she  said. 
"Wait.  He  will  not  die." 

The  cab  stopped  before  Winthrop's  place  where 
the  Thanksgiving  dinner  awaited.  They  were  some 
what  pale  when  they  entered. 


CHAPTER  XII 

FOE  three  days  the  town  had  been  valiantly  digging 
itself  out  of  the  snow  which  the  soft  gray  clouds 
shook  down  persistently.  The  snow-ploughs  of  the 
street  railroad  were  continually  in  commission, 
nosing  through  the  white  blanket  and  piling  up 
woolly  breastworks  at  either  curb.  Squads  of  the 
company's  workmen  and  of  city  street-cleaners  at 
tacked  the  drifts,  loading  wagon  after  wagon  to  be 
hauled  to  the  river  and  dumped.  In  the  business 
district  janitors  and  bare-headed,  goose-pimpled 
clerks  sallied  out  with  long-handled  brooms  to  clear 
the  watery  flagging.  Still  the  snow  fell,  and  nobody 
cared.  Throngs  of  shoppers  tramped  through  the 
slush.  A  caravan  of  umbrellas  bobbed  around  the 
chief  corners.  Store  windows  were  piled  moun- 
tainously  with  bright-colored  goods.  The  soberest 
shops  took  on  the  air  of  a  fair.  Troops  of  children  — 
they  seemed  almost  to  come  down  with  the  snow  — 
ranged  the  streets  and  flattened  their  noses  un 
checked  against  the  plate-glass  windows.  Christ 
mas  was  at  hand. 

The  afternoon  of  the  third  day,  Louise  walked  up 
Broadway.  It  was  getting  dark  and  turning  colder ; 
but  she  did  not  mind  the  snow.  It  powdered  her 

116 


116  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

fur  coat,  made  little  ermine  epaulettes  on  her  shoul 
ders,  and  covered  the  top  of  her  cap.  She  felt  an 
exquisite  pleasure  in  its  fall,  and  smiled  a  little  when, 
now  and  then,  an  eddy  of  the  rising  wind  drove  a 
handful  of  cold  flakes  full  in  her  unprotected  face. 
Everybody  seemed  seized  with  a  panic  to  get  home. 
The  platforms  of  the  street-cars  bulged  with  pas 
sengers  who,  in  turn,  bulged  with  bundles.  Men 
burst  from  shop  doors,  parcel-laden,  plunged  into  the 
street,  and  raced  after  a  slowly  retreating  car,  to 
which  they  were  helped  with  volleys  of  jokes.  Men 
on  the  cars  shouted  greetings  to  those  on  the  flagging. 
A  stout,  elderly  man  with  his  short  arms  full  pressed 
for  a  place  on  a  crowded  car-platform.  A  cry  went 
up:  — 

"Why,  here's  Santy  himself!" 

Louise  stopped  on  the  curb  and  watched  them  drag 
the  fat  man,  with  several  almost  fatal  slippings  of  his 
luggage,  to  the  car.  A  man  sang  out :  — 

"One  thing's  sure!  Davy  Donovan's  stocking's 
full  to-night.  It's  a  rod  long,  too  !" 

At  the  name  a  big,  warm  wave  ingulfed  her  heart, 
leaving  her  breathless  with  an  excess  of  joy.  Tak 
ing  the  occasion  of  some  business,  David  had  gone 
to  New  York  the  day  after  Thanksgiving.  "Wait !" 
she  had  said,  and  he  had  thought  it  more  endurable 
to  be  away  until  they  should  know  definitely  whether 
the  man  whose  head  he  had  cracked  was  going  to 
recover.  She  could  forgive  him  the  lawful  blow  — 
but  what  then?  "He  will  not  die,"  she  had  said  — 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  117 

as  though  he  must  not.  Now,  Dolton,  the  injured 
man,  was  definitely  out  of  danger  —  and  David  had 
returned  this  day. 

She  walked  on  leisurely.  The  enchantment  of 
the  air  grew  a  little  stronger,  a  little  more  heady. 
Quite  as  though  it  was  something  she  had  meant  to 
do  —  although  the  idea  occurred  to  her  only  at  the 
instant  of  acting  —  she  turned  into  the  first  store. 
There  were  nine  dollars  in  her  purse,  and  she  wished 
to  spend  them  all.  The  toy  stock  was  depleted ;  but 
it  did  not  matter.  She  took  trains  of  cars,  dolls, 
kitchens,  utterly  regardless  of  the  bulk.  When  she 
got  to  Winthrop's  back  door,  laden  like  a  porter,  she 
could  only  kick  against  it  with  her  foot.  Kittie 
herself  opened  the  door  and  cried,  "Oh,  you  goose  !" 
As  Kittie  unloaded  her  arms  they  fell  into  helpless 
laughter. 

All  the  same  Louise's  nerves  were  growing  taut. 
As  she  approached  the  house  a  question  that  she 
could  not  drive  away  arose  like  a  mist  in  her  tropical 
day.  She  lingered,  wishing  Kittie  to  say  a  word. 
But  Kittie  was  either  too  wilful  or  too  busy  with  the 
dinner.  The  day  was  overcast  when  Louise  went 
into  the  hall.  Then  she  heard  a  man's  voice  in  the 
living  room  and  the  bright,  elevated,  joyous  peace 
returned.  She  went  to  her  room.  She  did  not  at 
all  care  to  see  him  now.  He  was  below.  That  was 
sufficient. 

For  the  early  dinner  there  were  Kittie's  father, 
Sheriff  Endicott  and  his  wife  and  three  children,  and 


118  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dennis  O'Neill  —  a  strange  gathering ; 
but  to-night  politics  did  not  count.  Indeed,  Dennis 
carried  off  the  honors,  with  stories  of  early  Christ- 
mases  which  he  told  with  an  irresistible  humor. 

David  and  Louise  had  not  even  spoken ;  but  only 
smiled  across  the  board.  Presently  the  hostess 
bustled  away  and  they  heard  sounds  of  a  gathering 
in  the  next  room.  When  the  doors  rolled  open,  they 
found  themselves  at  the  edge  of  an  audience  of 
children  that  filled  the  larger  room.  It  was  needless 
to  ask  whence  they  had  come.  The  broken  shoes, 
mittenless  hands,  and  shabby  Sunday-best  told. 
The  curtain  across  the  bay  window  was  pulled  back, 
disclosing  the  burdened  Christmas  tree  and  David 
as  Santa  Glaus. 

After  the  gifts  were  distributed  there  were  three 
charades,  in  which  David  and  Louise  took  part.  The 
men  actors  dressed  in  Winthrop's  study,  the  women 
upstairs.  Thus  David  and  Louise  met  only  in  the 
hall  or  on  the  tiny  stage.  They  brushed  together, 
touched  hands,  spoke  to  each  other  —  all  about  the 
business  of  the  little  charades.  They  were  in  that 
hour  when  each  one  knows,  but  the  word  has  not 
been  spoken.  The  brightly  lighted  room,  the  people 
crowding  near  them,  even  the  strange  clothes  they 
wore  for  their  parts,  heightened  that  sense,  thrilling 
in  the  heart  of  each,  of  living  in  a  secret  paradise 
to  which  none  but  the  other  had  the  key.  This 
human  stir  about  them  was  light  as  finest  smoke 
against  their  powerful  dream. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  119 

Only  one  thing  Louise  really  noticed,  and  that  was 
Kittie  sitting  among  the  children,  talking  to  one  and 
another  of  them,  looking  at  gifts  that  Santa  Glaus  had 
brought.  The  show  ended  by  nine  o'clock.  Louise 
stood  in  the  hall  with  Kittie,  watching  the  children 
troop  away,  laden  and  happy.  She  was  in  a  charade 
costume,  and  Kittie  accompanied  her  when  she  went 
upstairs  to  change  it.  In  a  sudden  access  of  love, 
Louise  put  her  arm  around  the  smaller  woman's 
waist. 

"If  Santa  Glaus  came  to  town,  honey,  you'd  be 
the  very  first  person  he  would  b  come  to  see/7  she 
said. 

Kittie  laughed.  "Santa  and  I  understand  each 
other.  He  isn't  very  bright." 

"It  was  so  dear  —  those  little  children  !  Nobody 
but  you  could  have  done  it  just  right  —  been  one 
of  them  —  made  them  the  ones  that  were  giving  the 
party." 

Kittie  brushed  her  cheek  against  Louise's  shoulder. 
"It  was  truly  their  party,  dear.  I  was  coaxing 
them  to  invite  me,  to  take  me  into  it,  you  see  — 
for  the  sake  of  some  one  who  will  be  here  next  Christ 
mas  if  all  goes  well." 

Louise's  heart  fluttered  at  the  base  of  her  throat. 
She  stooped  with  awe  and  kissed  her  small  sister- 
in-law.  "I  thought  that,  Kitten,"  she  whispered. 
Suddenly  her  eyes  were  wet. 

Kittie  went  down  to  her  guests  and  Louise  changed 
her  clothes  slowly.  Her  depths  were  astir,  yearning 


120  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

with  elemental  power.  Dressing  mechanically  her 
lips  murmured,  "  Teach  me  to  meet  my  life  with  the 
same  great  heart  that  little  Kittie  has."  She  did 
not  know  whether  it  was  to  Kittie's  gods  or  her  own 
that  she  prayed. 

She  went  downstairs ;  David  was  in  the  hall.  The 
moment  she  saw  him  she  knew  that  for  him,  too,  the 
hour  was  overfull;  he  could  wait  no  longer.  She 
came  down  the  last  steps  steadily,  her  eyes  fixed  on 
his,  her  lips  barely  bent  in  a  smile.  An  indirection, 
a  touch  of  coquetry  would  have  seemed  abominable 
to  her  then.  David  met  her  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs. 

"Loie  —  it's  Christmas  —  How  I  love  you  !"  He 
spoke  low,  and  half  choked  with  an  everlasting  de 
sire.  His  hands  reached  out.  She  blushed  red, 
leaned  against  his  breast,  and  took  his  kiss.  Sud 
denly  they  were  thrust  back  seven  years.  This  was 
as  it  had  been  that  Thanksgiving  night  after  the  big 
game  when,  a  girl  of  seventeen,  she  had  waited  for 
him,  uplifted,  athrill,  impatient.  The  troth  they 
had  plighted  then  was  enduring. 

It  was  only  two  minutes  later  that  they  went  in 
where  the  others  were  and  sat  down  side  by  side. 
Dennis  was  telling  another  story.  In  the  silence  that 
followed  the  laugh  he  looked  around  the  room,  twin 
kling  with  good-nature.  The  next  moment  he  slyly 
pulled  his  wife's  sleeve. 

"I'm  thinking  Christmas  is  coming,"  he  whispered, 
his  shrewd  little  eyes  upon  the  pair. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  121 

"Man,  it  slipped  in  wit'  a  millun  candle-power, 
thinkin'  nobody'd  see  it,  while  ye  was  blarneyin' 
away  wit'  yer  story,"  she  whispered  back.  "We 
best  be  diggin'  out.  Santa's  nervous  in  company." 

Perhaps  the  same  sentiment  stole  to  the  others. 
At  any  rate  the  guests  departed  early.  Not  long 
after  their  going  Louise  was  left  to  see  David  to  the 
door  alone.  In  the  hall  they  said  again  the  words 
that  mean  much  to  two,  nothing  to  a  third.  He 
should  go;  but  he  lingered. 

Her  fingers  traced  the  edge  of  his  coat  lapel. 
She  opened  her  arms  and  laid  them  around  his  neck, 
looking  up  into  his  face  with  a  mighty  and  tender 
pride  of  possession  and  surrender. 

"Davy?"  In  the  little  questioning  lilt  her 
murmurous  voice  sang  the  name  caressingly. 
"You  stand  all  —  every  bit  —  on  our  side  now? 
Not  any  on  Dennis  O'Neill's  side?" 

He  understood  her.  His  joy-drunken  eyes  smiled 
a  little.  Half  by  way  of  teasing  her  he  said:  "You 
know  they're  driving  the  old  man  pretty  hard  now 
—  paying  him  for  having  given  Fred  that  evidence 
against  them.  They've  taken  most  of  his  trade 
and  are  crippling  his  credit." 

She  simply  looked  up  at  him,  grave  and  sweet 
and  silent,  neither  retracting  nor  renewing  her  plea. 
She  had  asked.  That  was  all. 

His  eyes  drank  in  her  steady  gaze,  the  slightly 
parted  red  of  her  lips,  the  tender  curve  of  her  chin. 
He  thought,  with  such  a  shock  of  delight  as  made  his 


122  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

heart  tremble,  "Ah,  how  she  can  pay!"  That  he 
should  hesitate  at  anything  she  asked  seemed 
incredible. 

"All,  every  bit,  on  your  side,  honey!  Set  me  a 
task!  Say  what  you  want!"  Holding  her  tight 
in  his  arms  there  was  not  room  enough  in  the  world 
to  think  of  anything  but  her. 

She  rested  her  head  on  his  shoulder.  "Just  that, 
dearest.  Just  that,"  she  murmured  with  an  infinite 
content. 

He  went  out  drunken  with  happiness,  lifted  above 
the  state  and  stature  of  a  man.  He  wished  to  catch 
up  his  life  in  his  hand,  as  a  boy  takes  a  ball,  and 
hurl  it  at  some  unknown  goal,  amid  ranks  of  some 
unknown  foe,  to  please  her. 

Louise  forgot  Kittie  and  Winthrop  and  the  house 
she  was  in.  She  found  herself  in  her  room.  As  she 
lifted  her  hand  to  her  throbbing  throat  to  unfasten 
her  gown,  a  certain  suggestiveness  of  the  act  pierced 
her  great  dream.  She  understood  that  she  had 
finally  quite  surrendered,  definitely  promised  her 
self.  Her  breast  labored.  She  was  glad  to  her 
finger-tips.  Then  she  realized,  in  the  powerful 
march  of  her  passion,  that  after  so  long,  after  so 
sharp  scruples,  after  the  stubbornly  applied  drag  of 
her  will,  she  had  let  in  love  like  a  flood;  that  it 
entered  her  life  with  an  overwhelming,  obliterating 
force. 

It  was  scarcely  necessary  to  tell  Kittie.  The  little 
woman's  eyes  shone  with  the  news  at  sight  of  Louise. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  123 

Winthrop,  also,  knew.  Indeed,  it  seemed  that  she 
herself  had  been  almost  the  last  to  know  the  secret. 
Frederick  Hasbrook  patted  her  shoulder.  The 
Senator  chuckled  and  kissed  her.  The  engagement 
was  prosily  announced,  like  any  other. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  wedding  itself  was  announced  for  the  tenth 
of  May;  but  not  even  that  changed  the  face  of  a 
workaday  world.  The  day  following  the  announce 
ment  three  men,  in  particular,  found  themselves  as 
gloomy  as  though  Hymen  had  gone  out  of  business. 

The  three  sat  in  the  compartment  of  a  Pullman 
car  —  Mr.  Codley,  Mr.  Titus,  president  of  the  First 
National  Bank  of  Sauganac,  and  Mr.  Schwartz, 
president  of  the  Three  Kings  Distillery  of  Nogiac. 
They  were  returning  from  New  York,  where  they  had 
attended  a  meeting  of  the  principal  distillers  who 
were  working  to  organize  a  trust  of  national  scope. 
It  had  turned  out  disappointingly.  The  great 
Wall  Street  house  which  was  to  finance  the  venture 
and  float  the  new  securities  had  interposed  a  demand 
for  delay. 

" Those  fellows  are  scared  out  of  their  wits," 
Schwartz  commented,  with  something  of  bitterness 
and  something  of  contempt,  as  he  stared  out  of  the 
window  at  the  flying  landscape.  He  was  a  small, 
spare  man  with  a  face  so  sharp  that  it  seemed  to  have 
been  whetted  to  a  cutting  edge.  He  was  very  nattily 
dressed.  His  red  puff  tie  and  large  solitaire  dia 
mond  ring  suggested  sporting  proclivities.  He 

124 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  125 

wore  his  stiff  black  hair  in  a  pompadour;  but  his 
most  noticeable  feature  was  a  high,  thin,  strongly 
arched  nose. 

"There's  a  good  deal  of  truth  in  what  they  say, 
Charlie,"  Titus  observed  thoughtfully.  "There  is 
a  lot  of  socialism  and  anarchy  loose  in  this  country, 
and  they  don't  want  to  stir  up  any  more  of  it. 
Here's  this  blatherskite  Sykes  talking  of  running  for 
governor,  and  the  newspapers  and  politicians  and 
all  sorts  of  riff-raff  howling  against  trusts  and  the 
money  power  and  so  on.  We  don't  want  a  row  any 
more  than  they  do." 

The  banker  was  then  forty-five,  with  a  compact, 
well-made  figure  and  a  handsome  face.  He  smiled 
easily,  almost  never  lost  his  tranquillity,  and  was 
one  of  the  most  popular  men  in  Sauganac.  People 
said,  "As  good-natured  as  Johnny  Titus."  He  was 
already  bald  over  the  front  of  his  head.  His  pleas 
ant,  smiling  face  was  lighted  by  a  pair  of  large  brown 
eyes,  out  of  which  now  and  then  a  strong  and  subtle 
spirit  looked.  He  had,  withal,  a  high  reputation 
among  men  of  affairs.  He  was  not  directly  inter 
ested  in  the  distilleries,  but  it  was  agreeable,  both 
to  Schwartz  and  the  Wall  Street  house,  that  he  should 
take  a  hand  in  the  trust-making.  Both  of  them 
respected  his  opinion  and  trusted  him.  "We  won't 
lose  anything,  finally,  by  waiting  a  bit,"  he  added 
amiably. 

The  Wall  Street  house,  in  fine,  had  laid  down 
several  conditions  precedent  to  the  flotation  of 


126  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

the  trust.  They  called  them,  in  the  mass,  "  house- 
cleaning."  They  did  not  propose  to  bring  out  the 
trust  under  conditions  which  would  tend  to  provoke 
popular  clamor.  With  regard  to  the  Nogiac  con 
tingent  they  wanted  to  see  if  the  Hasbrook  attack, 
which  had  already  attracted  too  much  newspaper 
attention,  couldn't  be  shut  off.  And  they  had  heard 
something  about  a  plot  to  burn  Dennis  O'Neill's 
distillery  at  Sauganac.  They  wanted  that  quietly 
interred.  As  Steinmetz  had  explained,  they  didn't 
want  the  newspapers  calling  the  new  securities 
" Murder  Debentures,"  and  "Arson,  preferred." 

"It's  just  as  I  told  'em,"  Schwartz  broke  out 
aggrievedly,  after  a  moment's  silence.  "Allan 
Thomas  is  a  drunken  fool.  He  got  up  that  crazy 
scheme  to  burn  Dennis's  distillery  out  of  his  own 
head.  Lord !  Do  they  think  I'd  have  gone  into 
an  idiotic  scheme  of  that  kind  —  and  with  that 
lousy  skate  Dolton?" 

"That's  true,  Charlie,"  the  banker  replied.  "But 
you  know  well  enough  the  newspapers  and  dema 
gogues  would  use  it  for  a  club  to  attack  the  whole 
distillery  trade  with,  just  as  much  as  though  you 
had  got  it  up  yourself.  That's  exactly  what  Wall 
Street  don't  want  —  a  popular  hullabaloo  and  scan 
dal.  There  ought  to  be  some  way  to  choke  it  off." 
He  glanced  at  Codley,  who  had  been  unusually 
silent  during  the  trip. 

"It  will  be  easy  enough  to  get  hold  of  Dolton," 
said  the  lawyer,  quietly.  "I  told  Herr  Steinmetz 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  127 

so.  Getting  hold  of  Dolton  means  only  two  things 
—  first,  money  enough  to  buy  him  over  again ; 
second,  outwitting  Mr.  Prosecuting  Attorney  Holmes. 
If  I  can't  do  that,  it  will  be  some  cold  day  when  you 
can't  raise  a  couple  of  thousand  dollars  for  Dolton. 
You  know,  Charlie,  we'd  have  moved  in  that  direc 
tion  long  ago  —  only  we  judged  a  delay  would 
have  a  useful  moral  influence  on  Thomas." 

Dolton,  the  man  who  had  taken  part  in  the  attempt 
to  burn  Dennis's  plant  and  whom  David  had  captured 
after  cracking  his  head,  had  made  a  confession  to 
Winthrop  Holmes  and  Frederick  Hasbrook,  and 
had  been  kept  in  strict  seclusion  —  first  in  a  private 
hospital,  latterly  in  the  county  jail.  The  confession 
said  that  Allan  Thomas  had  hired  him  to  burn  the 
plant.  Allan  Thomas  had  inherited  from  his  father 
a  large  interest  in  the  Grand  Mogul  Distillery  at 
Nogiac,  but  his  feeble  understanding  and  inebriate 
habits  had  not  tended  to  make  him  in  good  standing 
with  his  fellow-distillers.  Dolton's  confession  spelled 
penitentiary  for  him.  Schwartz  and  Codley  had 
deemed  it  wise  to  let  the  threat  hang  over  his  head 
until  he  consented  to  certain  arrangements  for 
putting  his  distillery  stock  in  the  hands  of  a  trustee, 
which,  while  not  depriving  him  of  his  income,  would 
shut  him  out  of  participation  in  the  management  of 
the  business. 

"Well,  I  guess  it's  up  to  you,  Codley,"  said 
Schwartz,  still  in  the  morose  mood  which  the  post 
ponement  of  the  trust  flotation  had  induced. 


128  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

"It's  up  to  me,"  said  the  lawyer,  coolly.  "Get 
ting  Dolton  will  be  easy  enough.  Getting  Freddy 
Hasbrook  will  be  more  difficult ;  but  I  always  try  to 
look  on  the  bright  side,  and  believe  that  wherever 
there's  a  will  there's  a  way." 

He  was  not  in  good  humor  himself.  Schwartz's 
moroseness  faintly  suggested  a  certain  unreasonable 
dissatisfaction  with  his  eminent  counsel.  Frederick 
Hasbrook  had  unearthed  a  set  of  freight  contracts 
which  Codley  had  devised,  the  disclosure  of  which 
irritated  their  author.  He  sat  loungingly  in  his 
chair,  his  head  sunk  on  his  breast,  and  looked  out 
of  the  window  with  a  rather  sinister  flicker  in  his  eye. 

"I  don't  imagine  anybody's  going  to  let  ten  or 
fifteen  million  dollars  slip  away,"  he  said.  It  was 
the  thought  that  lay  at  the  back  of  all  their  minds  — 
the  immense  profit  which  was  in  sight  and  which 
would  be  theirs  when  the  trust  was  successfully 
floated.  The  heap  of  gold  colored  all  their  thoughts 
as  they  sat  in  the  compartment,  not  saying  much, 
while  the  train  rushed  on.  It  shone  in  the  eyes  of 
the  banker  and  the  distiller  as  they  looked  blankly 
out  of  the  window. 

The  porter  appeared  in  the  door,  beaming,  brush 
in  hand,  and  announced  that  Nogiac  was  just  ahead. 
"I'll  go  on  to  Sauganac,"  said  Old  Alphabet.  "I've 
got  a  man  to  see  there." 

That  train  made  the  run  from  Nogiac  to  Sauganac 
in  thirty  minutes.  Codley  took  a  cab  to  the  hotel; 
telephoned ;  then  seated  himself  in  his  room  by  the 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  129 

window  overlooking  the  small  park.  Little  buds 
showed  here  and  there  on  the  maple  trees,  but  Old 
Alphabet  was  not  contemplating  the  processes  of 
nature  that  afternoon.  He  had  hardly  dropped 
into  the  chair  before  his  mind  was  back  at  its  strong 
toil  of  web-spinning.  He  was  so  absorbed  that  the 
knock  at  the  door  was  repeated  before  it  roused  him. 

Julius  Brown  was  at  the  door  with  another  man 
to  whom  Old  Alphabet  extended  a  welcoming  and 
bony  hand,  saying  amiably,  "How  are  you,  Wesley?" 
At  the  same  time  his  eyes  shrewdly  appraised  the 
caller. 

Wogan  bore  the  scrutiny  remarkably  well.  The 
marks  of  dissipation  were  still  upon  his  red,  swollen- 
looking,  round  face.  There  were  heavy  circles 
under  his  dark,  intelligent  eyes.  But  he  wore  a 
new,  neat  suit  of  clothes;  his  linen  was  clean. 
Above  all,  as  Codley  perceived,  he  was  quite  sober. 

Some  twelve  years  before  Wesley  Wogan  had  been 
a  man  in  all  Sauganac's  eye.  Even  then  it  was 
well  known  that  the  brilliant  young  lawyer  was  not 
at  all  scrupulous;  but  that  was  considered  as 
merely  a  part  of  his  smartness.  So  able  a  man 
naturally  would  not  shackle  himself  with  the  old 
conventions  of  common  honesty.  Then  a  granger 
member  of  the  legislature,  from  up  the  state,  had 
arisen  in  his  place  in  the  house  and  confessed  that 
Wogan  had  paid  him  a  bribe  of  four  hundred  dollars 
to  vote  for  the  schoolbook  bill.  The  house,  com 
pletely  dominated  by  the  machine,  ordered  an 


130  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

investigation  which  dragged  along  and  was  finally 
smothered.  The  schoolbook  bill  stood.  But  some 
way  the  picture  of  the  foolish  old  farmer  standing 
up  in  public,  with  broken  voice,  tears  running  down 
his  bewhiskered  face,  confessing  his  sin,  would  not 
vanish.  It  was  both  tragic  and  grotesque ;  but  the 
grotesqueness  was  what  hurt  Wogan.  He  might 
have  withstood  the  fulminations  of  the  preachers  and 
the  serious  editors ;  but  the  cartoonists,  comic 
paragraphers,  and  reporters  blessed  with  a  sense  of 
humor  could  not  let  it  alone.  The  old  man  had 
blubbered  out,  "I  tuk  the  wages  of  shame  f'um  that 
sinful  man!"  After  that  the  newspapers  simply 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  call  the  lawyer 
"  Sinful  Wogan."  Then,  although  the  fact  had  been 
well  known  before,  people  began  to  say,  with  a 
different  meaning,  that  he  was  a  rascal.  His  prac 
tice  and  income  declined.  Honest  clients  withdrew 
from  him,  and  for  the  dishonest  the  too-gross  brand 
upon  him  destroyed  his  usefulness. 

Six  months  before  the  schoolbook  episode  Wogan 
had  married  —  under  the  spell  of  one  of  those  in 
gulfing  infatuations  which  sometimes  befall  men 
whose  sensuality  is  heightened  by  real  intellectual 
and  imaginative  power.  His  wife  had  a  certain 
pouting-lipped,  warm-eyed,  babylike  prettiness 
and  was  absolutely  a  fool.  It  was  his  crowning 
misfortune  that  her  thimbleful  of  brains  was  infected 
by  a  social  ambition.  He  wrecked  his  credit  to 
build  her  a  house  on  the  boulevard,  where  she 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  131 

wailed  tearful  reproaches  into  his  ear  because 
Mrs.  Penrose  wouldn't  take  her  up.  Two  years  after 
the  schoolbook  affair  it  was  discovered  that  he  had 
embezzled  the  funds  of  a  client.  This  client  was 
none  other  than  the  James  A.  Penrose  Stove  Works, 
the  proprietor  of  which,  in  a  Jovian  disgust,  kicked 
him  out,  taking  no  pains  to  conceal  the  reason, 
although  forbearing  to  prosecute  him.  From  that 
time  on  his  record  consisted  of  the  struggles  of  a 
drowning  man.  The  showy  house  was  sold.  Wogan 
and  his  wife  took  an  apartment  at  the  Sauganac 
House,  and  lived  there  while  Landlord  Donovan's 
indulgence  lasted.  They  sank  to  a  boarding-house ; 
but  the  steadily  ebbing  tide  swept  them  from  even 
that  foothold.  Then  Delia  Wogan  left  her  husband 
and  went  to  visit  her  people  in  a  small  town  in  Ohio. 
That  was  four  years  ago  and  she  was  still  visiting. 
Wogan  gave  himself  more  and  more  to  drink.  In 
his  complete  degradation,  when  he  slept  on  an  old 
lounge  in  his  shabby  office  and  could  barely  maintain 
his  credit  at  various  barrooms,  his  infatuation  per 
sisted.  His  wife  incarnated  his  lost  estate.  His 
inebriate  dreams  were  of  regaining  her. 

Such  was  the  instrument  Old  Alphabet  had  finally 
selected,  tentatively,  for  the  work  in  hand.  He  was 
greatly  encouraged  to  see  that,  as  Julius  Brown  had 
reported,  Wogan  had  pulled  himself  up  to  the  hopeful 
extent  of  staying  sober  for  more  than  a  week.  The 
three  men  took  seats  and  Mr.  Codley  closed  the  door 
himself. 


132  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

"Well,  Wesley/7  he  said  good-naturedly,  "I 
suppose  Julius  has  told  you  what  I  want.  This  girl, 
Fanny  Trescott,  has  some  letters  that  excite  my 
curiosity.  They  may  not  be  worth  a  damn  to  rne 
after  I  get  'em.  On  the  contrary  they  may  be  worth 
some  more.  I  want  a  look  at  'em,  and  will  pay  a 
good  price  for  it.  Julius  tells  me  you  have  an  idea 
you  can  get  hold  of  them." 

"I  know  the  girl/'  said  Wogan.  "I  was  a  young 
ster  in  old  man  Merriam's  office  when  the  Trescott 
divorce  case  came  up.  Merriam  was  Mrs.  Trescott's 
lawyer.  Trescott  himself  wasn't  any  good.  He 
gambled  and  generally  lost.  He  and  his  wife  once 
bought  a  tract  of  land  out  Locust  Street  way. 
Trescott  managed  to  blow  it  in.  She  claimed  she 
didn't  sign  the  deed  by  which  it  was  conveyed.  I 
don't  remember  the  details  exactly;  but  that's 
the  outline  of  it.  I  know  she  wrote  to  Merriam 
about  it  from  Montana  shortly  before  she  died.  He 
looked  it  up  and  told  her  she  couldn't  do  anything. 
Very  likely  this  girl  Fanny  heard  something  about 
it  from  her  mother.  Nellie  usually  told  all  her 
troubles."  He  spoke  quietly,  and  to  the  point. 
Old  Alphabet  observed,  with  pleasure,  the  workings 
of  a  capable  mind.  "I  don't  know  what  you  gentle 
men  want  of  the  letters,"  Wogan  added,  and  looked 
from  one  to  the  other. 

Old  Alphabet  smiled.  "Say  we  want  'em  for 
our  scrap-book." 

Wogan   accepted   his   exclusion   from   the   secret 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  133 

philosophically.  "I  know  you  do  want  them  because 
Fanny's  sister  came  to  me  when  she  was  trying  to 
get  them.  Now,  my  idea  is  to  go  down  there  where 
Fanny  is  and  tell  her  I  can  recover  that  land  for 
her  mother's  estate;  and  I've  got  to  have  the 
letters  for  evidence.  I  know  her.  She's  a  good 
deal  of  a  fool.  The  land  is  probably  worth  twelve 
or  fifteen  thousand  dollars  by  this  time." 

Codley's  smile  warmed  and  broadened.  He  looked 
at  the  caller  with  real  admiration.  " Suppose  you 
start  in  the  morning/'  he  said,  with  an  evident  and 
amiable  relish  of  the  other's  astuteness.  "  You'll 
want  some  expense  money."  Lounging  in  the  chair 
and  smiling  good-naturedly,  he  took  a  roll  of  bills 
from  his  vest  pocket,  counted  three  twenties,  and 
handed  them  over,  negligently.  "  There's  going  to 
be  plenty  doing,  Wesley.  If  you  have  good  luck 
with  this  job,  it  will  lead  to  something  else." 

Wogan  took  the  money  and  the  promise  with 
cool  dignity,  quite  as  though,  like  his  neat  suit  and 
clean  linen,  it  was  what  he  was  used  to.  This,  also, 
pleased  Codley.  Leaving  the  room,  Wogan  felt 
himself  renewed,  as  though  he  had  sloughed  off  the 
bum  that  he  had  been  for  more  than  three  years. 
His  brain  was  clear  and  capable.  He  was  thinking  of 
his  wife ;  but  he  had  resolved  not  to  write  to  her  or  go 
to  see  her  until  he  could  show  a  solid  foundation. 

When  the  door  closed,  Codley  turned  to  the  editor 
with  a  broad  smile.  "That  fellow  is  going  to  come 
out.  I  believe  he'll  pull  himself  up.  He's  bright  as 


134  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

a  dollar,  too!"  And  his  satisfaction  over  Wogan's 
reclamation  was  by  no  means  ungenerous.  Wogan 
was  a  good  deal  his  own  sort.  Old  Alphabet  wished 
him  well.  "I  may  be  able  to  give  him  plenty  to 
do,  too,"  he  added  reflectively.  "If  he'll  keep  sober, 
I  can  give  him  a  good  boost.  Anyhow,  there's 
plenty  to  be  done."  He  crossed  his  long  legs  and 
thrust  his  hands  in  his  trousers  pockets.  "I  don't 
seem  to  have  as  much  luck  as  I'm  entitled  to." 

"Nothing  turns  up?"  Julius  suggested. 

"Things  turn  up,  Julius;  but  they're  on  the  other 
side,"  Codley  answered  thoughtfully.  "The  Wall 
Street  men  have  postponed  the  trust.  They  want 
everything  smoothed  over  and  sweetened  up.  Of 
course,  Charlie  Schwartz  is  looking  to  me  to  do  the 
sweetening.  I've  tried  to  reach  this  fellow  Nelson 
in  whose  name  Hasbrook  brought  suit;  but  Freddy 
seems  to  have  him  pretty  well  tied  up.  It's  Freddy 
I  want  —  and  I  guess  I'll  get  him  writh  time  and 
patience.  Patience  is  a  great  virtue  of  mine." 

"Young  Penrose  still  hangs  around,"  the  editor 
observed  incidentally. 

"He  seems  to  be  the  man,  eh?"  Codley  replied, 
rather  absently,  for  it  did  not  interest  him  very 
much. 

"Looks  that  way,"  said  Julius,  much  in  the  same 
key.  "He  hangs  around,  holding  her  hands  and  so 
on.  Queer,  too,"  he  speculated  discursively.  "You'd 
suppose  he'd  be  the  one  she  would  marry,  with  his 
money  and  all  that,  if  he's  really  the  man." 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  135 

"You  can  never  tell  about  those  things,"  Codley 
returned  still  more  absently;  then  he  smiled. 
"By  'those  things  *  I  mean  women.  Mamma  and 
Papa  Penrose  may  be  in  the  way.  You  never  can 
tell/7  And  fairly  lost  in  thought,  as  though  he 
were  making  a  vague  remark  about  the  weather,  he 
added:  "I'm  sorry  to  see  Davy  Donovan  soaked. 
He's  a  first-rate  fellow.  But  when  a  man  takes  a 
chance  in  that  lottery,  he  never  can  tell." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

LOUISE  stood  in  the  hall  of  Winthrop's  house, 
wearing  a  simple  tan-colored  travelling  suit  and  close, 
turbanlike  hat.  She  was  trying  to  ask  some  one  to 
find  her  gloves;  but  she  could  not.  Everybody 
was  clamoring  at  her;  pulling  her  about.  Every 
nerve  in  her  body  ached  to  flee  to  any  place  where 
she  could  be  quiet  and  alone.  At  the  door  Kittie 
slipped  an  arm  around  her  waist,  and  she  stooped, 
with  stupid  helplessness,  and  made  the  motions  of 
kissing.  She  thought  she  had  kissed  everything  but 
the  dog.  As  she  crossed  the  veranda  she  was  vaguely 
aware  of  a  bank  of  faces  in  the  doorway  behind  her ; 
some  tearful,  some  vapidly  agrin.  She  saw  David 
standing  below,  holding  open  the  carriage  door. 
She  climbed  in.  David,  following  her,  held  the  door 
open  a  moment  to  call  back  replies  to  the  farewells 
spoken  by  those  on  the  veranda.  She  simply  sank 
back  in  her  corner  of  the  seat.  The  door  closed. 
The  carriage  started.  She  shrank  closer  into  her 
corner,  afraid  that  he  would  touch  her  —  and  she 
had  been  so  much  mussed-up  of  late. 

David  looked  smilingly  into  her  face.  "I  got  your 
gloves,"  he  said,  and  handed  them  to  her.  The 
glimmer  of  a  smile  upon  her  pale  face  thanked  him. 

136 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  137 

In  the  compartment  of  the  Pullman  car  he  left  her 
alone.  She  did  not  know  where  he  was  taking  her. 
At  the  moment  she  did  not  care.  It  was  enough  to 
be  alone.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  been  pushed 
and  crowded  for  hours.  Little  by  little  her  taut 
nerves  relaxed.  She  looked  vacantly  out  of  the 
window  at  the  pleasant,  rolling  fruit  country  through 
which  they  travelled.  The  maple  trees  were  in  their 
new  green.  The  oaks  were  leafing  out.  Here  and 
there  a  farmer  was  at  work  in  a  brown  field.  The 
shadows  fell  long  to  the  eastward.  Gradually  she 
forgot  the  jar  and  rumble  of  the  train;  her  spirit 
went  out  to  the  peaceful  orchards  and  meadows. 
Two  hours  after  dark  they  left  the  train. 

Stepping  down,  she  looked  about  in  surprise. 
A  mass  of  leafage  rose  wall-like  before  her  —  above 
that  the  still  night  and  the  stars.  A  few  rods  up 
the  track  stood  a  little  shanty  of  a  station,  having 
a  lantern  with  a  tin  reflector  nailed  over  the  door. 
They  were  barely  on  the  ground  before  the  train 
started,  and  she  supposed  David  had  especially 
arranged  to  have  the  limited  stop  there.  It  was  very 
dark  after  the  light  of  the  car.  She  took  his  arm, 
and  they  started  up  the  path  beside  the  tracks. 
The  figure  of  a  man  shaped  itself  out  of  the  darkness, 
coming  to  meet  them  —  a  lean  figure,  coatless,  with 
an  old  blue  cap  having  the  words  "Station  Agent" 
on  the  brass  tag  above  the  visor.  He  evidently 
knew  David,  and  shook  hands.  Louise  heard  herself 
introduced. 


138  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

"Mart  got  thirty-one  bass  yesterday/'  said  the 
agent,  addressing  David.  It  seemed  out  of  modesty 
that  he  ignored  the  bride. 

Reaching  the  little  station,  Louise  saw  a  wagon 
and  span  and  a  man  on  the  driver's  seat.  With  him, 
too,  David  shook  hands,  and  he  touched  his  hat-brim 
and  said,  "How  d'do,  ma'am?"  when  the  bride  was 
introduced. 

It  seemed  mostly  woods  thereabouts.  But  as 
they  drove  from  the  station  Louise  saw  a  hamlet. 
Kerosene  lamps  illuminated  the  windows  of  two 
small  shops.  They  trotted  through  the  dusty  little 
street,  and  at  once  entered  the  woods.  The  driver 
was  talking  fish  to  David.  It  was  cool  in  the  woods. 
Louise  drew  a  wrap  about  her.  She  wondered  how 
the  horses  found  their  way  in  the  thick  dark. 
A  strange,  quiet  world  seemed  to  lie  in  this  dark. 
Presently  she  saw  a  broad,  dim  shining  ahead,  as 
though  a  fleecy  cloud  had  fallen  from  the  sky.  In 
a  moment  she  knew  it  was  water.  The  driver  gave  a 
shout.  A  voice,  hoarse  and  deep,  answered.  A  twin 
kling  light  appeared,  advancing  and  oscillating. 

"Road's  kind  of  bad  down  here/7  the  driver 
explained. 

"Hello,  Mart!"  David  called. 

"Hello  !"  the  hoarse  voice  boomed  back.  As  they 
approached  the  lantern-bearer,  Louise  made  out  his 
squat,  fat  figure.  He  looked,  she  thought,  rather 
like  a  pirate,  with  a  tumble  of  iron-gray  hair  and 
huge,  bristling,  iron-gray  mustache,  a  big  flat  nose, 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  139 

and  face  composed  of  wrinkling  fat.  He  looked  up 
at  her  very  good-naturedly,  however,  and  brushed 
his  rumpled  hair  a  little  with  a  thick  hand,  evidently 
with  an  idea  of  improving  his  appearance  in  her 
honor. 

They  followed  the  rude  wagon  way  to  the  front  of 
a  frame  cottage  by  the  shore  of  the  lake.  Mart's 
wife  was  on  the  small  porch,  awaiting  them.  She 
shook  hands  warmly  with  David  and  timidly  with 
Louise.  She  seemed  a  dumb,  motherly  old  soul, 
in  a  shapeless  calico  dress,  with  sparse,  iron-gray 
hair  and  a  pair  of  iron-bowed  spectacles  which,  in  her 
timid  nervous  self-consciousness,  she  turned  about 
in  her  work-crooked  fingers.  It  struck  Louise  that 
this  sole  representative  of  her  sex  was  a  woman 
whose  will  had  been  absorbed  by  her  men-folk. 
Still  she  was  a  woman,  and  the  bride's  own  nervous 
ness  clung  to  her. 

The  men  had  disappeared  somewhere.  Sitting 
on  the  small  porch,  Louise  kept  on  a  conversation  in 
which  Mrs.  Lacey  was  the  merest  dead  weight.  The 
fishing  was  very  good.  She  had  two  children,  a  son 
and  a  daughter.  The  daughter  was  married  and 
lived  in  Chicago.  The  daughter's  husband  was  a 
street-car  conductor. 

While  Mrs.  Lacey  docilely  answered  her  ques 
tions,  Louise's  senses  were  alive  to  the  scene  —  the 
woods  behind  them,  the  dimly  shining  lake  in  front ; 
the  immense,  primeval  stillness  over  all ;  a  stillness, 
however,  that  lived.  There  were  little  noises  in  the 


140  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

woods.  Down  the  shore  frogs  called  and  chorused 
with  a  sound  that  was  primordial  —  a  note  of 
passion  in  an  elementary  world.  Its  harsh  rhythm 
beat  in  Louise's  ear.  Then  David  stood  before 
them,  smiling  a  little ;  and  she  understood,  with  a 
new  shock  of  surprise,  that  she  was  to  go  with  him. 

The  way  was  dark  along  the  lake  shore.  They 
passed  a  shadowy  copse  of  bushes,  and  her  eye  caught 
the  cheery  glow  of  fire.  A  long,  low  log  cabin  stood 
before  them,  and  the  open  door  was  rosy  from  a 
crackling  hearth  within. 

"I  don't  claim  much  for  the  architecture.  I  built 
it  myself,"  said  David.  " Nobody  ever  comes  here 
but  me." 

There  were  three  rooms,  the  middle  one,  in  which 
they  stood,  some  fifteen  feet  square.  Floor,  walls, 
and  ceiling  were  of  smooth,  unpainted  pine  boards, 
and  there  was  a  rude  brick  grate  opposite  the  door. 
The  ruddy  glow  of  the  grate  furnished  the  only  light. 
Abruptly  she  understood  that  this  would  be  exactly 
the  place  he  would  wish  to  take  her  —  back  to  some 
thing  elemental  in  himself. 

" Indian!"  she  breathed,  with  lips  that  trembled. 

He  slipped  his  arm  about  her  waist.  "  Indians 
knew  how  to  live  long  ago,"  he  answered  low,  and 
kissed  her.  She  vaguely  felt  herself  letting  go,  fall 
ing  back  into  the  elemental. 

Louise  made  a  short,  noiseless  stroke  with  the  oars. 
The  reel  hummed  softly  as  David  cast.  She  watched 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  141 

the  line  cutting  its  little  ripple  through  the  water  as 
he  wound  it  in.  Then  she  pulled  lazily  at  the  oars 
and  he  cast  again. 

Away  at  the  other  side  of  the  lake  old  Mart  was 
still  fishing.  His  motionless  boat  and  fat;  humped 
figure  under  a  tattered  straw  hat  made  a  mere  blur 
against  the  shadow-darkened  shore  water.  It 
seemed  that  he  had  been  exactly  there  from  time 
immemorial;  would  be  precisely  there  for  ages  to 
come.  The  few  fleecy  clouds  in  the  high  blue  sky 
sailed  serenely  in  eternity.  And  all  this  stillness  was 
vividly  alive,  too.  The  sudden  undulatory  move 
ment  of  the  pond-lilies  near  the  shore,  the  parting  of 
the  water,  the  flashing  leap  of  a  trout,  were  exactly 
in  keeping,  as  though  the  deep  repose  of  the  living 
face  had  been  broken  for  an  instant  by  the  flutter 
of  an  eyelid. 

Louise  looked  up  at  David,  smiling,  and  turned  the 
boat  so  he  could  have  a  try  for  the  trout  that  had 
leaped.  It  seemed  that  her  existence  had  become  a 
part  of  this  about  her.  They  had  been  three  weeks 
at  the  lake.  Her  brain  was  dull,  her  thoughts  lazy, 
while  she  felt  the  underworld  of  her  being  absorbing 
vitality  from  the  slow,  serene  life  of  the  woods  and 
water. 

They  strolled  and  sailed  and  fished.  Indoors 
she  took  a  singular  delight  in  poking  about  the  log 
cabin  where  none  but  himself  had  been,  and  where 
she  rummaged  among  fishing  and  hunting  gear,  even 
his  old  clothes  and  the  drawers  of  the  rude  table 


142  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

where  he  had  sometimes  worked.  It  was  all  so 
peculiarly,  so  intimately,  his  own. 

After  supper  at  Mart's  that  evening  they  sat 
before  their  cabin  —  the  only  persons  in  the  world, 
for  the  intervening  trees  hid  Mart's  cottage.  The 
sun  had  set,  gorgeously  coloring  the  clouds  that 
lingered  in  the  west.  To  the  east  the  lower  slopes 
of  the  hills  were  already  mellowing  to  a  softer  mass, 
slipping  into  the  advancing  night.  Little  noises 
in  the  woods  mysteriously  sang  of  repose,  as  though 
nature  made  faint  sounds  in  settling  down  upon  her 
couch.  The  chorus  of  frogs  made  the  still  air  pulse. 
The  lake  took  color  from  the  clouds,  red  at  first,  then 
a  wonderful  yellow  over  its  entire  western  half.  A 
whole  joyous  season,  refined  to  its  living  gold,  seemed 
poured  out  there  with  a  kind  of  immortal  prodigality. 

The  two  on  the  shore  watched  it  silently  with 
beating  hearts.  They  were  going  back  to  Sauganac 
in  the  morning.  Louise  could  scarcely  bear  to  see 
it  fade.  She  wished  to  beg,  "Only  another  hour!" 

It  seemed  to  her  like  her  honeymoon.  She  had 
let  herself  drown  in  an  ocean  of  love.  The  joy  was 
too  great  to  be  resisted.  With  conscious  love  she 
had  taken  up  his  old  boots,  turned  over  his  fishing 
tackle.  Back  there  in  Sauganac  lay  many  things 
to  try  them.  She  obscurely  feared  them.  Some 
way  that  fundamental  question  concerning  David 
had  hardly  been  answered.  She  feared  it.  She 
wished  to  say  to  him,  "Take  me  altogether,  Davy! 
Keep  me  here  up  in  the  woods !" 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  143 

The  last  pale  band  of  pearl  faded  from  the  water. 
To  the  eye  the  lake  became  only  a  mirror  for  the 
stars.  The  chorus  of  frogs  sounded  like  an  old, 
persistent  note  of  desire  in  a  void  world.  Her  hand 
groped  out  and  found  her  husband's. 

On  the  way  home  next  day,  as  they  neared  the 
boundary  of  Mission  County,  Louise  again  found 
herself  alone  in  the  Pullman  car.  Dreaming  to  her 
self  she  looked  out  at  the  pleasant  fruit  country  — 
gently  rolling,  sandy  slopes  set  with  vineyards  and 
orchards,  widely  margined  with  stretches  of  green 
pasture,  interspersed  with  leafy  woods.  It  had  a 
contented,  prosperous  look.  The  farm  buildings 
were  generally  comfortable,  shaded  with  oak  and 
maple  trees,  often  brightened  with  flowers.  It  was 
these  good  farmers,  living  in  the  sun,  their  wealth 
in  purple  grape  clusters  and  crates  of  golden  peaches, 
whose  votes  had  turned  the  scale  in  Winthrop's 
favor.  Louise's  blue  eyes  looked  upon  their  pleasant 
land  with  a  singularly  vivid  love.  She  thought,  in 
the  main,  they  wanted  only  what  was  good  and  right. 
Then,  somewhat  as  back  there  at  the  lake,  her  heart 
contracted.  She  wished  to  find  her  husband  and 
say  to  him,  "  Let's  live  out  here  in  the  sunny  coun 
try,  David !  What  do  we  care  about  consolidated 
electric  light  plants  and  getting  rich.  It's  so  peace 
ful  here  —  so  much  room  and  time  to  love  each 
other!"  Her  nerves  fluttered  and  her  breast  ached 
with  the  wish. 


144  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

The  booming  whistle  of  the  locomotive  sounded. 
The  train  slackened  and  stopped.  A  brick  wall, 
vast,  grimy,  and  blank,  towered  outside  the  window. 
They  had  entered  Mission  County.  They  were  in 
Nogiac.  This  enormous  brick  wall  formed  the  side 
of  the  Three  Kings  Distillery  —  Charlie  Schwartz's 
plant.  It  suggested  something  mediaeval,  a  seat  of 
dark,  barbaric  power  that  dominated  a  country.  It 
was  the  stronghold  of  the  enemy.  The  train,  de 
layed  at  a  switch  to  let  out  a  string  of  distillery  cars, 
started  again  and  slid  into  the  Nogiac  station. 
Louise  visualized  the  town  —  overshadowed  by  its 
three  great  distilleries,  ruled  by  the  gang,  a  seat  of 
corruption.  The  saloons  did  as  they  pleased  here. 
Vice  flourished. 

When  they  pulled  out  of  Nogiac,  her  eyes  again 
rested  upon  a  panorama  of  pleasant  country;  but 
she  was  not  thinking  of  that  now.  She  was  think 
ing  of  David  as  she  had  often  thought  of  him  before, 
only  more  intimately,  with  a  dream  more  warm  and 
heady  —  of  a  champion  as  brave  and  steadfast  as 
Winthrop,  and  abler  than  he,  gifted  with  that  mys 
terious  touch  which  commands  men.  She  craved 
the  heroic.  She  did  not  know  just  how  it  would 
come  about,  but  out  of  her  own  ardor  there  should 
be  an  occasion  when  she  would  buckle  the  harness 
upon  her  husband's  strong  limbs  and  send  him  forth 
—  her  warrior ;  the  darling,  not  of  her  body  but  of 
her  soul.  She  dreamed  this  wholly  to  herself.  It 
belonged  in  that  nest  of  her  heart  which  is  guarded 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  145 

by  an  inviolable  modesty,  which  no  one  will  let 
another  see,  no  matter  how  dear  or  intimate  that 
other  may  be. 

When  David  came  in,  he  wondered  at  the  smile 
which  transfigured  the  beauty  of  her  face.  It  was 
so  serene,  yet  tender.  She  slipped  her  hand  in  his. 


CHAPTER  XV 

WHILE  their  new  house  was  building,  they  had 
made  only  a  few  most  necessary  repairs  to  the  old 
Holmes  place,  which  they  were  to  occupy  during  the 
summer.  As  they  drove  up  to  it  from  the  station, 
the  quaint,  old-fashioned  shabbiness  was  suddenly 
dear  to  them.  They  laughed  at  each  other  as  they 
opened  the  rickety  gate  in  the  picket-fence  and  walked 
across  the  ragged  yard.  The  half-obliterated  shells 
bordering  the  gravel  walk  and  the  fret-saw  work  on 
the  narrow  porch  were  a  part  of  the  precious  joke. 
This  modest  shabbiness  seemed  some  way  to  under 
stand  them  and  to  promise  to  keep  safely  hidden  the 
secret  of  their  happiness. 

Louise  took  off  her  hat  and  glanced  around  the 
little  sitting  room,  which  Kittie  had  made  ready. 
She  turned  to  her  husband  with  an  overflow  of  low, 
sweet  laughter. 

"Home,  for  sure,  Davy  dear!" 

As  she  leaned  against  him,  yielding  to  his  arm,  her 
secret  heart  was  still  busy  with  that  dream  of  shaping 
him  to  heroism  at  her  tender  breast. 

David,  too,  was  very  happy.  Like  gay  children 
with  a  new  toy  they  looked  over  the  house.  When 
they  came  to  the  kitchen,  Louise  exclaimed.  A  great 

146 


WHEN  LOVE   SPEAKS  147 

bouquet  of  roses  stood  on  the  cook-stove.  Beside 
it  was  a  card,  written  on  in  Ted  Penrose's  hand: 
"For  the  cook;  in  anticipation." 

"Teddie!"  she  cried,  with  the  singing  lilt  of  a 
fond  woman  over  an  object  of  her  affection.  She 
took  up  the  flowers ;  buried  her  face  in  them ;  turned 
impulsively  to  David. 

"I  love  him  very  much,  Davy!  Really  very 
much!" 

It  seemed  infinitely  dear  to  him  —  the  way  she 
showed  him  that  part  of  her  heart,  bravely,  loyally, 
yet  with  a  little  half-defensive  questioning.  He 
laughed  fondly,  and  kissed  her.  "Of  course  you  do, 
honey,"  he  said. 

The  precious  joke  of  their  shabby  home  was  still 
with  them  at  next  morning's  breakfast  table.  He 
was  to  leave  her  now  and  go  down  into  the  town 
about  his  business.  Fond  as  they  were,  they  had 
that  tendency  to  a  balance  which  all  normal  people 
have.  For  the  time  they  had  seen  enough  of  each 
other  exclusively.  Louise  had  many  household 
things  to  see  to ;  the  problem  of  a  new  maid  was 
upon  her  hands.  David's  affairs  awaited  him.  She 
watched  his  going  with  a  serene  heart. 

At  the  gate  David  turned  and  waved  his  hand ; 
then  swung  away  with  vigorous  strides.  He  was 
sunnily  conscious  of  being  a  very  happy  man.  One 
great  concern  of  his  life  —  marriage  —  had  been 
settled  with  the  highest  good  fortune.  Now  his 
mind  ran  forward  alertly  and  with  confidence  to 


148  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

the  business  affairs  from  which  he  had  been  cut  off. 
He  had  the  practical  male's  zest  for  them.  Already 
he  was  absorbed  in  running  over  his  plan  to  get  the 
electric  light  plant  and  consolidate  it  with  the  street 
railroad.  It  was  a  good  plan.  He  ought  to  make 
a  capital  stroke  for  himself  with  it  —  seventy-five 
thousand  dollars  if  luck  favored  him. 

At  the  street  railroad  power-house  he  was  greeted 
from  all  sides.  The  burly  Swede  barn  boss  actually 
blushed  over  his  own  warmth.  Day  laborers  grinned 
and  nodded.  David  had  a  jolly  word  for  them  all. 
He  liked  this  human  stir.  He  was  at  home  among 
men. 

He  went  up-town,  and  it  seemed  that  about  every 
tenth  man  he  met  on  Broadway  remembered  that 
he  had  been  married.  Sometimes  two  or  three 
" joshed"  him  at  once.  This,  too,  was  to  him  an 
expression  of  the  good  workaday  world's  geniality. 
It  pleased  him  to  be  among  these  friendly  people 
who  thought  well  of  him.  It  was,  after  all,  the  scene 
in  which  his  capability  exercised  itself  —  his  par 
ticular  world. 

He  had  hardly  stepped  into  the  handsome  office 
of  the  First  National  Bank  before  the  bald  cashier, 
looking  across  the  marble  counter  from  his  desk, 
sang  out  loudly,  " Hello,  there,  Davy!"  Every 
one  looked  around,  and  there  was  a  small,  jocular 
ovation.  The  assistant  cashier  himself  went  to  see 
whether  Mr.  Titus  was  engaged,  and  smilingly  beck 
oned  David  to  enter  the  president's  office  at  the  rear 
of  the  general  banking-room. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  149 

In  the  beginning  Penrose  and  Epperson  had  joined 
in  building  a  small  horse-car  line  in  Sauganac,  as 
public-spirited  citizens.  From  time  to  time  the 
line  was  extended;  then  equipped  for  electrical 
operation,  and  enlarged  still  more,  until  now  it  was  a 
very  respectable  concern  with  some  fifty  miles  of 
track  in  city  and  near-by  country.  When  the  earlier 
extensions  were  made,  Penrose  and  Epperson  had  let 
other  substantial  citizens  come  in  as  stockholders. 
At  present  the  holders  of  stock,  small  and  great, 
numbered  over  thirty.  Penrose,  with  his  great  for 
tune,  no  longer  gave  much  personal  attention  to  his 
Sauganac  affairs,  and  none  at  all  to  the  street  rail 
road.  Titus  represented  him  and  voted  his  stock. 
The  banker  was  interested  himself  and  held  proxies 
from  other  stockholders,  so  that  he  and  Epperson 
really  controlled  the  company.  Epperson  was  still 
president ;  but  since  David  had  developed  the  ca 
pacity  to  manage  the  concern,  the  patent-medicine 
man  gave  only  incidental  attention  to  it.  David 
really  ran  the  road,  under  Titus's  advice  as  regards 
financial  matters.  Thus,  in  going  to  the  bank, 
David  was  reporting  at  headquarters. 

The  handsome  banker  greeted  him  genially.  He 
liked  David.  The  younger  man's  business  capacity 
itself  in  a  way  endeared  him  to  the  elder.  He  had 
been  looking  over  the  plan  to  take  in  the  electric  light 
plant ;  thought  very  well  of  it ;  believed  it  would  be 
a  good  stroke ;  Epperson,  ever  cautious,  hadn't 
completely  come  around,  but  was  coming;  the 


150  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

Chicago  fellows  who  owned  the  plant  were  rather 
on  the  fence ;  they  were  light-weights  and  hesitated 
over  attempting  to  raise  the  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars  that  ought  to  be  spent  on  the  plant 
to  put  it  in  proper  shape. 

"Martindale  was  over  to  see  me  the  other  day/' 
Titus  went  on.  "He  owns  a  fifth,  and  is  anxious 
to  sell.  Some  of  the  others  are  holding  off;  think 
they  can  do  better.  I  told  Martindale  we'd  give 
them  a  fair  deal;  but,  naturally,  we  wouldn't  pay 
any  fancy  price,  for  we  can  get  a  light  franchise  of 
our  own  and  run  them  out  of  business  if  we  have  to. 
I  think  they'll  come  around  to  a  reasonable  figure 
all  right." 

"Here's  how  I  stand,"  said  David.  "I've  got 
forty  thousand  dollars  in  street-railroad  stock.  It's 
all  the  money  I  have,  except  what  my  new  house 
will  cost  me.  I  can  buy  Bryerly's  stock  right  now  — 
pretty  cheap,  too  ;  not  over  par.  What  would  you 
think  of  making  me  a  loan?" 

The  banker  drew  two  little  circles  with  his  pencil 
on  the  blotting-pad  —  a  sign  that  he  was  thinking. 
"How  much  is  it?" 

"Thirty-five  thousand  dollars,"  David  replied.  "I 
suppose  I  can  raise  the  money  elsewhere ;  but  I'd 
rather  come  to  you.  Of  course,  you're  entitled  to 
know  whatever  I  do.  The  stock  is  worth  the  price 
if  we  don't  get  the  electric  light  plant.  If  we  do  get 
it,  and  form  a  new  company  and  double  our  stock, 
the  new  stock  will  be  at  a  premium  in  a  year.  I'm 


WHEN    LOVE   SPEAKS  151 

certain  that  taking  over  the  light  plant  will  be  the 
most  profitable  thing  we  ever  did."  He  laughed. 
"  You  know  I've  bored  you  to  sleep  preaching  that !" 

The  banker  dropped  his  pencil.  "Go  ahead, 
Davy.  Buy  the  stock.  I'll  lend  you  the  money. 
If  anybody  makes  a  profit  out  of  this  light  deal, 
you're  entitled  to  it,  for  it's  your  plan." 

David  arose,  smiling  and  sparkling.  "Good  !  I'll 
be  in  for  the  money  in  a  day  or  two !" 

He  went  out  into  the  sunny  street  with  a  stronger 
happiness,  a  heightened  zest.  It  was  good  to  suc 
ceed,  good  to  make  money !  Titus  and  Epperson 
were  backing  him.  He  felt  the  ground  firm  under 
his  feet.  He  crossed  the  parked  grounds  of  the 
Sauganac  House.  The  old  hotel  looked  good  to  him. 

Landlord  Donovan  was  stepping  out  on  the  ve 
randa  as  David  mounted  blithely  to  it.  "Hello, 
father!"  David  sang  out  gayly.  The  landlord's 
genial  face  lit  up.  He  laughed  and  shook  hands 
with  David  ;  laughed  again  and  threw  an  arm  around 
his  stalwart  son's  shoulders.  His  full-hearted  pleas 
ure  seemed  to  infect  the  very  furniture.  He  marched 
David  through  the  office,  hugging  him,  laughing  like 
a  pleased  boy.  The  clerk  behind  the  desk,  some 
lounging  guests,  the  very  bell-boys,  looking  on  and 
catching  the  genial,  open-hearted  joy,  beamed  or 
laughed  outright  in  pure  sympathy. 

Triumphantly  the  landlord  marched  his  son  down 
the  broad  stairs  to  the  bar-room.  Both  were  ab 
stemious  men;  but  it  was  a  kind  of  merry  rite  to 


152  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

pledge  the  returned  prodigal  in  a  drink.  Word  of 
David's  return  went  about  the  hotel,  and  Dennis 
O'Neill  came  peering  and  twinkling  to  the  bar-room 
door.  Even  more  abstemious  than  either  of  them, 
he  nevertheless  walked  up  to  the  bar  and  took  his 
symbolic  drink  with  them. 

David  ate  luncheon  at  the  hotel  with  his  father  and 
Dennis.  In  this  genial  hour  he  felt  all  his  old-time 
fondness  for  the  shrewd,  humorous,  unmoral  old 
boss.  Several  times  it  was  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue 
to  say,  "You  must  bring  the  ' missis'  up  to  see  us, 
Dennis."  That  seemed  the  most  natural  thing  in 
the  world  to  say ;  yet  he  forebore. 

Other  men,  lunching  at  the  hotel,  came  over  to 
their  table  from  time  to  time  —  friends  of  David, 
who  shook  hands  with  him  and  congratulated  him, 
or  " joshed"  him,  according  to  their  natures.  He 
was  not  less  in  love  with  his  wife,  yet  it  was  a  joy 
to  him  to  be  back  again  in  this  sphere  of  men.  He 
seemed  to  feel  mental  muscles  that,  for  a  month, 
had  laid  unused  stretching  out,  getting  agreeably 
in  play  once  more.  Men's  talk,  men's  laughter,  the 
broad,  practical,  tolerant  attitude  of  his  own  sex, 
stimulated  him. 

It  was  after  two  o'clock  when  he  got  back  to  the 
street  railroad  office  to  take  up  work  in  earnest. 
There  was  plenty  of  it  waiting  for  him,  and  he 
plunged  into  it  with  ardor.  He  was  fairly  surprised 
when  he  heard  the  six  o'clock  whistles  blowing.  He 
left  the  office  with  the  pleasure  that  comes  from 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  153 

having  worked  hard  and  to  good  purpose.  His 
mind  turned  to  his  wife  with  a  keener  zest  for  having 
been,  for  some  time,  quite  detached  from  her.  He 
did  not  formulate  it  at  all;  but  he  simply  felt  that 
here  was  the  final  beauty  of  marriage  —  the  good, 
busy,  successful  day  among  the  affairs  of  men ;  then 
to  leave  it  all  and  go  home  to  the  dear  woman  who 
awaited  him. 

Louise  had  been  in  the  house  most  of  the  day,  her 
hands  busy  with  unpacking  and  arranging,  her  heart 
and  mind  full  of  her  dreams  of  him.  At  four  o'clock 
she  put  on  one  of  her  prettiest  dresses,  remembering 
that  he  had  admired  it,  and  went  out  in  the  yard  to 
the  patched  rustic  seat  beneath  the  gnarled,  half- 
dead  old  apple  trees.  She  took  a  book,  and  read  a 
little ;  but  mostly  she  brooded  on  the  nest  of  her  love 
and  waited  for  her  husband.  She  was  not  really 
disappointed  when  he  did  not  come  by  five,  as  she 
had  expected,  not  until  after  six.  She  had  great 
contempt  for  the  sort  of  wife  whose  puling  selfishness 
seeks  to  bind  her  mate's  working  hands.  Naturally, 
David  would  have  much  business  the  first  day. 
Nevertheless  it  made  her  think  of  that  wide  field  of 
his  activity  where  he  went  alone,  leaving  her  at  home. 
Half  his  waking  hours  would  be  spent  down-town 
with  affairs  which,  naturally,  she  could  not  know 
much  about. 

When  he  appeared,  walking  rapidly,  she  called 
gayly,  arose,  and  went  to  meet  him.  His  mind  was 
still  genially  full  of  the  impressions  of  the  day  —  and 


154  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

he  was  hungry.  When  they  went  in  to  dinner,  he 
told  her  jovially  that  he  had  seen  Titus ;  the  electric 
light  plan  was  going  ahead  well;  they'd  make  a 
good  thing  out  of  it.  He  said  he  had  seen  his  father, 
too.  But  he  waited  until  the  maid  was  out  of  the 
room  to  say :  — 

"  Dennis  was  there,  you  know.  I  was  going  to  tell 
him  to  bring  his  wife  up  to  see  us.  They're  not  cere 
monious  people."  He  was  smiling  and  regarding 
her  with  a  good-natured,  rather  expectant  ques 
tioning. 

" Dennis?"  she  repeated  —  and  hesitated,  in  an 
odd  pain.  "We  don't  need  Dennis,  do  we,  dear?" 

He  laughed  somewhat  forcedly.  "Well,  you 
seem  not  to,  Loie.  Of  course,  you're  the  mistress," 
he  said.  He  was  really  rather  surprised.  It  had 
seemed  so  natural  to  have  old  Dennis  personally  their 
friend.  It  was  the  little  defect  in  the  rose.  His 
wife  was  a  bit  narrow-minded. 

She  knew  his  thought,  and  it  hurt  her.  It  was 
not  good  to  balk  his  geniality.  But  it  was  exactly 
in  this  genial,  light-hearted  carelessness  that  the 
danger  lay. 

"I  know  Dennis  is  personally  likeable  in  a  way, 
Davy,"  she  said.  "But  I  simply  can't  take  him  in 
that  way.  To  me  he  can  never  be  anything  but  the 
bribe-giver  and  grafter.  His  being  good-natured 
and  generous  doesn't  interest  me,  dear."  She  spoke 
gently,  making  it,  in  fact,  half  a  little  plea  for  his 
forgiveness. 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  155 

He  responded  instantly,  smiling  across  at  her  with 
a  generous  fondness.  "We'll  cut  him  out!"  he 
said. 

She  knew  that,  in  his  fond  way,  he  still  rather 
laughed  at  her  for  her  scruples  —  and  forgave  her 
them. 

They  went  out-of-doors  after  dinner,  rambled 
about  the  ragged  yard,  discussing  whether  they 
should  have  it  put  in  shape.  It  was  deep  dusk  when 
they  came  back  to  the  porch.  David  stepped  up, 
turned  abruptly,  set  his  heels  together,  swung  his 
arms,  and  jumped.  He  paced  the  distance  he  had 
cleared,  and  laughed  to  find  it  less  than  he  should 
have  made. 

"I'll  be  getting  fat,  next!"  He  pinched  her 
cheek. 

All  the  evening  a  problem  had  been  going  round 
and  round  in  the  back  of  her  mind.  She  thought : 
"How  much  he  is  a  boy  !  I  love  him  too  much  !  It 
carries  me  off  my  feet.  This  isn't  "he  right  way." 

Yet  what  could  she  do  but  love  him  with  all  her 
might?  The  idea  of  contending  with  him,  of  doing 
anything  that  would  make  him  less  anxious  to  be 
by  her  side,  wounded  her  from  all  directions  at  once. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  June  weather  was  superb.  All  the  trees  were 
in  leaf;  the  river  valley  a  magnificent  cradle  of 
living  green.  Mr.  Codley,  issuing  from  the  Sauganac 
House,  lifted  approving  eyes  to  the  leafage  of  the 
little  park. 

The  lawyer  turned  into  Broadway;  but  in  the 
direction  opposite  to  the  Daily  News  office.  Where 
the  main  thoroughfare  grew  shabbier  as  it  approached 
the  river,  he  took  a  side  street ;  and  so  reached  a  two- 
story  frame  building  of  weather-beaten  and  unat 
tractive  appearance.  The  stairs  that  he  climbed 
were  darker  and  even  dirtier  than  those  leading  to 
Julius  Brown's  sanctum.  The  door  from  the  little 
hall  at  the  head  of  them  bore  a  dingy  sign  :  "  Wesley 
Wogan,  Attorney  at  Law"  ;  but  the  door  was  locked. 

Old  Alphabet  opened  the  half-opaque  window  at 
the  end  of  the  hall  and  sat  down  comfortably  on 
the  dusty  sill.  The  lower  story  of  the  building  was 
occupied  by  a  feed  store.  Some  bales  of  hay  and 
straw  lay  in  the  belittered  back  yard,  and  chickens 
picked  industriously  over  the  grain-strewn  ground. 

"Very  pastoral  for  Wesley,"  Mr.  Codley  com 
mented  to  himself,  with  considerable  amusement.  He 
heard  a  step  on  the  stair  and  watched  Wogan's  ascent 

156 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  157 

with  the  same  expression  of  good-nature.  His  first 
glance  had  told  that  Wesley's  clothes  were  neatly 
pressed,  his  linen  clean.  Codley  judged,  with  satis 
faction,  that  he  was  perfectly  sober ;  and  confirmed 
the  judgment  when  the  younger  man,  near  the  head 
of  the  stairs,  looked  up.  There  was  energy  in  the 
red,  swollen-looking  face. 

"On  hand ?"  said  Wogan.  "My  train  was  a  little 
late."  He  got  a  key  from  his  pocket,  unlocked  the 
door,  and,  with  a  nod,  invited  Codley  to  enter. 

The  office  comprised  two  rooms,  of  equally  un 
kempt  appearance.  In  the  inner  room  Wogan  put 
his  bag  on  the  battered,  ink-stained  table  and  sat 
down,  motioning  to  another  chair ;  and  Old  Alpha 
bet,  with  perfect  good-nature,  chuckled  inwardly  to 
behold  already  the  air  of  the  capable,  successful 
lawyer  to  whom  clients  were  a  commonplace. 

"It  was  a  long  pull ;  the  girl  was  about  as  stubborn 
as  they  make  'em,"  Wogan  observed,  by  way  of 
preface.  "I  finally  got  her  interested  in  recover 
ing  the  land,  though ;  and,  of  course,  I  got  the  let 
ters."  He  took  out  his  pocket-book,  drew  a  folded 
paper  from  it,  and  handed  it  over.  "  There's  her 
receipt  for  the  two  hundred  dollars  we  advanced  her. 
You  see,  it  gives  me  the  case  on  a  contingent  fee 
and  makes  me  a  partner  in  it,  so  we  can  hold  her 
tight  enough  if  she  should  get  flighty.  But  she 
won't  get  flighty.  Her  topknot  is  full  of  pleasant 
dreams  of  the  hard  cash  she's  going  to  get.  If  you 
think  well  of  the  letters,  we'd  best  send  her  on  a  wild- 


158  WHEN  LOVE   SPEAKS 

goose  chase  up  to  Montana,  where  her  mother  died, 
to  keep  her  out  of  the  way  and  have  a  finger  on  her. 
Now  —  about  the  letters.  I  don't  know  whether 
they're  worth  a  rap  to  you  or  not.  But  my  job  was 
to  get  'em,  and  I've  done  it." 

He  took  a  thick  new  envelope  from  an  inner  pocket 
and  tore  it  open.  It  contained  another  envelope, 
curiously  old-looking  and  wound  with  a  faded  red 
ribbon.  This  envelope  in  turn  contained  nine  let 
ters,  or  notes,  five  in  a  man's  hand,  four  in  a  woman's. 
Wogan  laid  them  out  in  a  row  on  the  battered  table. 
Old  Alphabet  bent  over  them  as  though  he  were 
reading  a  fortune  in  cards.  All  were  undated  and 
unsigned.  There  was  not  even  an  initial. 

"There's  no  doubt  about  the  man's,"  Wogan  com 
mented.  "They're  in  Fred  Hasbrook's  hand."  He 
leaned  back  in  the  swivel  chair,  his  dark,  intelligent 
eyes  fixed  on  Codley.  Now  and  then,  with  an  im 
patient  finger,  he  tapped  his  chin.  Old  Alphabet 
looked  intently  at  the  letters,  one  after  another,  as 
they  lay  in  a  row,  without  offering  to  touch  them, 
although  two  of  the  man's  contained  more  than 
one  sheet.  He  seemed  to  wish  to  wrest  the  secret 
from  these  time-faded  sheets  in  the  mass. 

"Do  you  know  Mrs.  Trescott's  hand?"  he  asked. 

"This  isn't  her  hand,"  said  Wogan.  "The  girl 
Fanny  says  so." 

"What's  the  girl's  idea?" 

"She  hasn't  any." 

Codley  looked  up  then.     "What's  yours,  Wesley?" 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  159 

"It's  plain  enough,"  said  Wogan.  "Hasbrook 
and  the  woman  who  wrote  these  letters  used  Mrs. 
Trescott  as  a  go-between.  She  had  two  shops,  you 
know,  one  opening  into  the  other.  I  think  they  met 
there.  The  question  is,  How  did  Mrs.  Trescott 
come  to  keep  possession  of  these  letters?" 

Codley  hunched  forward  with  an  oddly  avid  move 
ment.  "She  wouldn't  have  done  it,"  he  said,  "if 
there  hadn't  been  something  extraordinary  about 
the  affair.  It  wasn't  any  maid-of-all-work,  any 
dining-room-girl  case." 

The  suggestion  whetted  Wogan's  appetite  anew. 
With  a  gentle  little  intaking  of  the  breath,  he,  too, 
bent  forward.  And  Old  Alphabet  now  took  up  the 
letters,  beginning  methodically  with  the  first,  study 
ing  each  faded  word.  Even  to  these  men  the  some- 
^hat  yellowed  sheets  breathed  out  the  tragic  air 
of  a  dead  romance.  The  fingers  that  penned  these 
lines  might  have  long  mouldered  in  the  earth. 

They  were  blind  enough  —  mere  love-letters  whose 
tender  words  now  lay  like  corpses  of  the  long-past 
emotion  in  which  they  had  been  written.  The 
woman's  especially  were  blind  and  brief.  One  of 
them  was  a  mere  scrawl  in  pencil:  "Only  to  say, 
Darling!  Sweetheart!"  A  second  was  not  much 
longer.  It  concluded,  "The  week  will  be  another 
age.  Be  sure  to  see  J."  A  third  began,  "Yes. 
You  may  come  to-morrow !  Think  of  it !  What  a 
trick  they've  played  on  me  —  turning  all  the  leaves 
yellow !"  It  was  to  this  one  that  Codley  came  back, 


160  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

at  the  end  of  an  hour  during  which  only  a  few  words 
were  spoken. 

He  read  it  over  again ;  then  picked  up  one  of  the 
man's  letters  which  began,  " To-morrow  then;  and 
thank  God  !  Could  the  touch  of  little  rosy  feet  have 
turned  the  leaves  yellow?7' 

The  lawyer  took  his  meaty  nose  between  a  thumb 
and  forefinger  and  pondered  a  moment ;  then  turned, 
very  quietly  to  Wogan. 

"I  smell  a  trail,  Wesley,"  he  said  very,  very 
gently.  "How  would  this  hypothesis  strike  you? 
They  wrote  these  letters  to  each  other  because  they 
couldn't  meet.  Yet  both  were  in  Sauganac.  Imag 
ine  the  woman  was  in  bed,  and  the  faithful  Trescott 
brought  her  a  letter,  which  she  didn't  want  to  keep 
anywhere  about  her.  So  she  gives  it  back  to  the 
faithful  Trescott  to  burn  up.  The  faithful  Trescott,. 
who  has  ideas  of  her  own,  prefers  to  keep  it.  Also, 
she  decides  to  swipe  some  of  the  woman's  letters  to 
the  man  —  to  make  her  case  complete,  you  see,  if 
she  should  ever  deem  it  prudent  to  use  the  corre 
spondence  for  a  gainful  purpose." 

"That  looks  reasonable  enough,"  said  Wogan. 

"Why  would  she  be  in  bed  and  inaccessible?" 
Codley  asked,  and  paused  an  instant,  and  added, 
quietly:  "Get  me  a  copy  of  all  the  births  in  the 
autumns  of  the  years  1880,  1881,  and  1882.  I 
wouldn't  wonder  if  these  same  little  rosy  feet  would 
lead  us  somewhere,  Wesley.  I  seem  to  smell  a 
warm  trail  —  whether  there's  any  good  game  at  the 
end  of  it  or  not." 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  161 

He  tapped  the  ends  of  his  bony  fingers  together, 
regarding  Wogan  with  a  certain  approval.  "I 
suppose  I  needn't  tell  a  gentleman  of  your  pene 
tration  who  it  is  that  I'm  after,"  he  said.  "I  may 
have  a  personal  and  unworthy  motive  of  my  own. 
Freddy  Hasbrook  has  been  quite  rude  to  me.  But 
that's  neither  here  or  there.  He's  made  up  his 
alleged  mind  that  the  thing  for  him  to  do  now  is  to 
raise  all  the  hell  he  can  with  some  good  business  men 
who  happen  to  be  in  the  whiskey  trade,  and  whom 
he  don't  approve  because  they've  had  to  make  their 
fortunes  themselves,  instead  of  having  their  fathers 
do  it  for  them.  It  happens  at  an  awkward  time. 
There  are  some  big  plans  afoot  that  Freddy  interferes 
with.  There  are  a  good  many  million  dollars  at 
stake,  Wesley.  We  haven't  the  least  idea  of  letting 
a  son  of  his  father  yawp  us  out  of  them.  I  expect  to 
have  plenty  of  work  for  you.  You'll  find  the  pay 
satisfactory." 

"I'm  needing  the  money,"  Wogan  replied  suc 
cinctly. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  splendid  June  weather  blessed  the  minds  of 
Frederick  Hasbrook  and  Winthrop  Holmes  as  they 
strolled  in  the  Hasbrook  grounds  side  by  side, 
discussing  the  campaign  against  the  distillers. 

Hasbrook,  as  attorney  for  a  man  named  Nelson 
who  had  been  grievously  afflicted  by  the  secret  com 
bination  among  the  leading  distillers,  had  already 
filed  a  bill  in  equity,  by  means  of  which  he  expected 
to  bring  out  evidence  of  various  illicit  practices  — 
secret  understandings  in  restraint  of  trade,  unlawful 
freight  rebates  paid  to  the  big  distillers  by  the  rail 
roads,  blacklisting  of  rebellious  dealers,  and  the 
like.  He  was  pushing  an  inquiry  before  the  Inter 
state  Commerce  Commission  touching  the  illegal 
relations  between  the  distillers  and  the  railroads. 
The  attorney-general  of  the  state  was  really  a  creature 
of  the  combine ;  but  Hasbrook  had  set  in  motion  a 
plan  to  reach  higher.  He  expected  soon  to  be  able 
to  go  to  Washington  and  lay  before  the  United  States 
Attorney-General  evidence  which,  he  hoped,  would 
induce  that  official  to  institute  prosecution  of  the 
distillers  for  violating  the  federal  anti-trust  law. 

Winthrop  Holmes  was  more  especially  interested 
just  now,  however,  in  the  case  of  the  man  Dolton, 

162 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  163 

whom  David  had  captured  in  the  attempt  to  burn 
Dennis  O'Neill's  plant.  Dolton  had  once  been  a 
gauger  in  the  government's  internal  revenue  service, 
which  naturally  made  him  familiar  with  distillers 
and  distilleries.  Some  years  before  he  had  been 
dismissed  from  the  service  for  what  looked  very 
like  connivance  on  his  part  in  a  scheme  to  defraud 
the  government  in  collection  of  tax  on  spirits. 
Following  his  dismissal  he  was  taken  in,  as  a  sort 
of  camp-follower,  by  the  Grand  Mogul  Distillery  at 
Nogiac,  which  appeared  to  have  been  the  especial 
beneficiary  of  the  fraud  upon  the  government.  He 
had  made  a  confession  that  Allan  Thomas,  of  the 
Grand  Mogul,  had  hired  him  to  burn  O'Neill's  plant. 
He  was  now  kept  very  tight  in  the  county  jail. 

"  Dolton  knows  more  than  he  has  confessed," 
the  prosecuting  attorney  was  saying.  "He  knows 
a  lot  more.  He's  been  mixed  up  in  other  skulldug 
gery  besides  this  plot  to  burn  O'Neill's  plant.  I've 
got  hints  of  it  out  of  him.  He'll  come  to  the  point 
of  confessing  it  before  long." 

"I  suppose  he  wants  some  money,"  Hasbrook 
observed. 

Winthrop  hesitated  and  frowned.  He  hated 
that  phase  of  it.  "Well,  I  suppose  he  does,"  he 
admitted. 

"Let  me  know  when  you  think  he's  ripe,"  said 
Frederick.  "I'll  go  see  him.  I  shan't  mind  mak 
ing  him  a  present.  In  fighting  the  devil,  some  fire 
is  necessary."  He  laughed  good-naturedly  over 


164  WHEN  LOVE   SPEAKS 

Winthrop's  distaste.  "It's  right  enough,  too," 
he  added  philosophically.  "In  testifying  for  the 
state  Dolton  will  naturally  lose  his  job  of  cheap 
villain  for  the  distillers.  He  couldn't  afford  to  step 
out  empty-handed  and  cut  off  from  the  only  means 
to  a  livelihood  in  which  he  has  any  considerable 
experience." 

"He  sees  it  differently  now,"  Winthrop  made 
haste  to  say.  "He's  anxious  to  get  into  some  decent 
way  of  living.  He  talks  about  a  farm  far  west. 
The  fact  is,  Fred,  he's  afraid  of  his  life.  He  told 
me  those  fellows  wouldn't  hesitate  to  have  him  put 
out  of  the  way.  He's  actually  afraid  of  his  life. 
It's  no  trouble  to  keep  him  tight.  He  doesn't 
want  any  stranger  admitted  to  him.  Of  course,  his 
fears  are  exaggerated.  But  I  doubt  if  he  would 
sleep  easy  anywhere  out  of  jail.  His  niece  says  he 
wouldn't." 

"Do  you  know  the  niece?"  Hasbrook  inquired, 
rather  incidentally. 

"No.  She  comes  to  see  him  once  or  twice  a  week ; 
seems  rather  ignorant,  but  fond  of  him."  The  prose 
cuting  attorney's  mind  was  back  in  the  coil  of  his 
plans.  "I  must  get  Dolton  to  tell  what  he  knows  — 
all  he  knows.  We'll  only  scotch  this  snake,  Fred, 
until  we  get  two  or  three  of  those  fellows  in  the 
penitentiary.  Fines  and  civil  judgments  and  so  on 
won't  stop  'em.  If  there's  a  law  on  the  statute 
book  that  they  haven't  broken,  it's  been  merely 
because  it  didn't  suit  their  convenience  to  break  it." 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  165 

"True,"  said  Hasbrook,  calmly.  "Well,  we're 
getting  a  very  promising  start,  Winthrop.  It  will 
be  odd  if  they  break  through  all  our  nets." 

The  sum  of  what  had  been  accomplished  —  the 
extent  of  those  nets  of  the  law  which  Hasbrook  had 
already  spread  —  rose  upon  Holmes's  mind.  "By 
George,  Fred !  It  was  an  awfully  lucky  thing  for 
me  that  you  came  into  this !"  he  exclaimed.  It  was 
the  gratitude,  warm  and  spontaneous,  of  a  simple, 
modest  man  to  one  who  helped  him  —  not  in  his 
personal  affairs,  but  to  enforce  the  people's  law. 
So  it  touched  Hasbrook  deeply. 

"It's  your  fight,  Winthrop  !  You're  the  standard- 
bearer!"  he  answered.  "Really,  I'm  only  running 
the  commissary.  Anyway,  we'll  let  them  know 
we're  fighting!"  He  looked  powerful,  even  for 
midable,  as  he  declared  it,  his  lips  closing  in  a  firm 
line,  his  massive,  bald  head  erect. 

Winthrop  went  away  with  an  uplifted  mind.  A 
sense  of  his  ally's  power  inspired  him.  He  thought, 
with  exultation,  "The  scoundrels  can't  escape  this 
time !"  As  he  walked  along  the  bluff  road,  to  take 
a  street-car,  he  was  not  at  all  insensible  to  the  green 
beauty  of  the  valley,  nor  to  the  clear,  benignant  sky. 
He  was  not  in  the  least  a  vengeful  man.  His  pas 
sion  for  righteousness  wore  the  livery  of  the  law. 
The  idea  of  casting  down  the  bloated,  insolent, 
mocking  law-breakers  made  the  world  lovelier  and 
more  harmonious  to  him.  It  was  difficult  for  him 
to  understand  a  feeling  for  loveliness  and  harmony 


166  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

that  arose  on  other  ground  than  literal  truth.  He 
put  his  eggs  in  one  basket.  It  was  difficult  for  him 
to  understand  a  divided  mind.  Perhaps  there  were 
scarcely  two  men  more  inwardly  unlike  than  he  and 
the  good  friend  to  whom  he  nodded  a  greeting  as  he 
alighted  from  the  car  at  the  Court  House  corner. 

The  good  friend  nodded  back,  showing  his  teeth 
and  dimples,  and  watched  the  solid  figure  climb 
the  steps  that  led  to  the  Court  House  grounds.  Win- 
throp's  effect  of  massive  singleness  someway  height 
ened  Teddie  Penrose's  confusion. 

He  had  left  his  bicycle  shop  for  the  day.  He  was 
going  home.  To  reach  his  lodging  he  should  keep 
straight  on  up  the  hill  to  the  third  corner.  The  next 
cross  street  was  on  the  way  to  the  old  Holmes  place. 
He  walked  very  slowly ;  even  stopped  twice  and  poked 
into  the  grass  with  his  stick  as  though  he  were  look 
ing  for  something.  He  was  not  thinking  at  all,  but 
merely  drifting  around  in  confusion.  At  the  corner, 
however,  he  took  the  cross  street.  "I'm  acting  like 
a  hog,"  he  said  to  himself.  Before  he  reached  the 
rickety  gate  in  the  picket-fence  he  saw  Louise,  in  a 
light  summer  gown,  working  among  the  old  rose 
bushes.  He  hailed,  gayly,  as  he  opened  the  gate. 

"It's  what  I  need  —  pruning-knife  applied  about 
at  my  ankles,"  he  said  as  he  came  up  to  her. 

"What  makes  you  think  your  feet  are  all  right?" 

"They  brought  me  to  you.  Isn't  it  Shelley  that 
has  something  very  neat  in  that  line  about  his 
hoofs?"  He  spoke  gayly.  She  was  bare-headed 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  167 

and  smiling.  He  said  to  his  depths,  "Why  should 
I  mind?  She's  pretty  near  all  in  the  world  that  I 
care  about." 

She  bent  a  little  toward  him,  pruning-knife  in 
hand,  and  laughed  with  a  fond  raillery.  "What 
have  you  been  up  to,  Ted,  that  makes  you  so  gay?" 

He  laughed,  too.  "I  suppose  it's  the  limit. 
You  know  I  play  poker  sometimes/'  he  plumped 
out,  showing  his  dimples.  "A  while  ago  I  ran  across 
my  cashier  in  the  joint  I  patronize  —  one  of  those 
Winthrop  hasn't  discovered  and  shut  up.  I  wouldn't 
like  my  boss  to  assume  that  I  was  going  to  steal  just 
because  he  found  me  playing  poker.  So  I  nodded, 
friendly.  Later,  I  found  him  there  several  times. 
I  never  sat  in  the  same  game  with  him  except  once 
when  it  would  have  looked  stuck  up  and  holier- 
than-thou  not  to.  This  afternoon  he  came  into  my 
office,  white  as  a  ghost ;  the  old  story,  you  know  — 
fifteen  hundred  short;  lost  at  poker;  wife  and  two 
kids.  To  save  my  life  I  couldn't  do  anything  but 
tell  him  to  charge  it  up  to  advertising,  and  laugh; 
couldn't  even  fire  him.  We'd  drank  from  the  same 
canteen,  you  see.  It  makes  me  gay  to  realize  what 
a  stupendous  joke  I  am  as  a  business  man." 

She  knew  the  troubled  soul  beneath  this  smiling 
face;  felt  that  shock  of  bewilderment  within  him, 
as  life  so  often  handed  him  a  puzzle  that  he  could  not 
solve.  She  knew  it  was  to  her  that  he  must  come. 
But  she  was  too  much  in  love  with  David  to  compre 
hend  just  why  Ted  must  come  to  her. 


168  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

"That  wasn't  so  bad  as  it  might  have  been,  Teddie  ! 
You  might  have  played  poker  and  been  rough  on  the 
man,  too."  She  spoke  to  him  sweetly,  with  affec 
tionate,  smiling  eyes.  She  wished,  as  so  often,  to 
make  up  to  him  what  was  untoward  in  his  circum 
stances  and  in  his  own  composition.  In  a  way  she 
claimed  him  for  her  own.  She  had  been  so  long  used 
to  him  —  to  his  docile,  sweet-tempered,  self-depre 
ciatory  attitude — that  she  did  not  entirely  under 
stand. 

Penrose  was  thinking,  "I  ought  to  go  away  — 
but  I  won't;  no,  I  won't!" 

"What  I  need  is  a  job  as  gardener.  I  believe  I 
could  learn  to  prune  a  rose-bush  first-rate,"  he  said 
lightly,  and  stooped  to  help  her. 

An  hour  later  David  came  home  and  found  them 
still  at  work  together.  His  heartiness  to  Ted  showed 
her  again  his  liberal  and  generous  mind.  She  felt 
that  her  husband  admired  her  the  more  for  exercis 
ing  her  womanly  powers  in  this  other  man's  life. 
If  there  were  tendencies  in  him  that  were  dangerous, 
certainly  they  had  nothing  to  do  with  jealousy  or 
the  like  defects  on  the  meaner  side  of  man.  She 
had  never  been  more  in  love  with  him.  He  urged 
Ted  to  dine  with  them.  When  he  refused,  they  all 
walked  down  to  the  gate  together. 

Louise  was  first  to  see  a  notable  figure  making 
diagonally  across  the  street  toward  them  —  a  figure 
portly,  red  of  face,  and  in  the  livery  of  the  law. 
The  stiff  straw  helmet,  with  a  large  pewter  shield 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  169 

of  the  city  in  front,  was  tipped  far  back  from  the 
perspiring  brow.  The  blue  policeman's  blouse  dan 
gled  dejected  from  the  fat  shoulders;  the  official 
trousers  bagged  sadly  at  the  knee.  He  came  up  to 
the  gate  and  stopped,  with  a  kind  of  questioning  look 
at  Teddie. 

" Hello,  Clancy.  Want  to  see  me?"  said  David, 
genially,  and  at  the  same  time  he  gave  his  wife's 
arm  a  little  humorous  squeeze,  which  meant  that 
she  was  to  stay.  Ted  took  himself  off,  smiling 
mischievously.  David  gravely  introduced  the  caller 
to  his  wife.  They  walked  across  to  the  seats  under 
the  apple  trees,  Clancy  gloomily  silent.  He  laid  his 
helmet  on  the  ground  and  wiped  his  brow.  "  Danged 
hot  day,"  he  suggested,  sociably,  to  Louise;  then 
sighed  and  turned  woebegone  eyes  upon  David. 

"Well,  I'm  in  a  heap  of  trouble,  Davy."  He 
brought  it  out  plumply  and  simply. 

" Yourself,  Clancy?"  David  asked  with  some 
surprise. 

"Me,  Davy;  after  sixteen  years  on  the  force  and 
never  a  charge  against  me."  A  touch  of  brogue 
mellowed  his  speech.  David  was  humorously  aware 
that  there  was  seldom  a  charge  against  any  police 
man  in  Sauganac. 

The  policeman  unconsciously  settled  into  an 
official,  half-magisterial  attitude.  "Yu'll  be  re- 
memberin7  Peter  Costello  —  lives  out  by  the  dump  ? 
Peter's  kind  of  a  weak  sister,  ye  might  say.  He's 
got  a  stiff  leg  and  five  young  ones  and  boozes  more'n 


170  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

he  ought  at  times.  He's  a  mule  to  work,  though, 
Davy.  Right  at  it  when  he's  got  a  job.  They've 
been  havin'  pretty  hard  times  lately,  wit'  sickness 
in  the  family,  and  out  o'  work.  Well,  sir," — he 
came  to  the  denouement  deliberately  —  "  Monday 
night  I  was  comin'  through  the  railroad  yards. 
It's  orders  to  go  through  the  yards  every  night  and 
keep  an  eye  out  for  coal  thieves.  I  was  comin' 
through  the  yards,  and  here  was  Peter,  right  at  it 
—  hoppin'  off  a  car  wit'  a  gunny  sack  full  —  fair 
more'n  the  blackguard  could  lug.  He  kind  of  reeled 
off  slaunchways  wit'  it  plumb  into  my  arms  — 
arrested  himself,  ye  might  say." 

Clancy  looked  up  dramatically.  In  spite  of  him 
self  David  laughed  softly  —  being  aware  that  if 
Costello  hadn't  arrested  himself  he  never  would 
have  been  arrested. 

"There  we  was,  Davy,"  the  officer  repeated. 

"And  you?"  David  prompted. 

The  officer  hesitated  a  moment.  "I'm  tellin'  it 
to  ye  straight,  lad.  I  give  him  a  smart  rap  wit'  me 
stick  over  his  pate  and  told  him  he  was  a  disgrace 
and  if  he  ever  did  it  agin  I'd  run  him  in.  And  that's 
the  last  I  seen  of  him,"  he  concluded,  with  an  air  of 
complete  candor. 

"And  the  trouble?"  David  insinuated  gently. 

"Ye  see,  the  railroad  detective's  been  tellin'  the 
sheriff  and  Mr.  Holmes"  -he  looked  studiously 
away  from  Louise  —  "that  the  police  was  in  league 
wit'  the  coal  thieves.  The  detective  and  a  deputy 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  171 

sheriff  —  Nesbit's  his  name  —  was  watchin'.  Mr. 
Holmes  is  tellin'  the  mayor  I've  got  to  get  off  the 
force  or  he'll  have  me  up  in  court  for  bein'  accessory 
to  larceny.  The  mayor  says  he  can't  stand  for 
that." 

" They've  got  a  pretty  straight  case  against  you," 
David  suggested  soberly. 

"  Yes,  sir.  In  wan  way  of  lookin'  at  it,  they  have, 
Davy,"  he  admitted  squarely.  "I've  told  ye  the 
straight  of  it,  lad.  They're  tryin'  to  find  out  who 
the  man  wit'  the  bag  was  —  Costello,  ye  mind. 
The  railroad  wants  to  send  him  to  jail  for  takin'  the 
bit  of  coal  for  the  missus  and  kids  to  cook  their 
potatoes  wit'  —  for  an  example,  they  say.  I  told 
'em  'twas  a  stout  man  wit'  a  black  beard  and  he  hit 
me  a  punch  in  the  stomach  and  knocked  the  wind 
out  of  me.  But  they  don't  believe  me,"  he  added 
simply.  "Yes,  sir,  it's  a  straight  case  in  wan  way. 
Me  knowin'  Costello  and  his  missus  and  kids  makes  a 
difference.  The  railroad  ain't  carin'  so  much,  ye 
know,  Davy,  when  it  hurts  somebody  —  knockin' 
off  a  lad's  leg  or  the  like.  Ye  mind  last  year  how  they 
tried  to  bribe  the  jury  to  keep  fum  payin'  Martin's 
boy  for  his  arm.  They  ain't  carin'  so  much.  I  guess 
ye  know  yourself,  Davy,  when  there's  been  some 
stiff  work  to  do  I  ain't  one  o'  them  that  waits  for  the 
wagon  and  a  squad.  When  that  murderin'  dago  was 
shootin'  up  his  family  last  month,  Bill  Nesbit  got 
around  the  corner.  'Twas  Clancy  kicked  in  the 
door." 


172  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

" Resign,  Clancy,"  said  David.  "I'll  take  care 
of  you.  We  want  another  watchman." 

The  officer  contemplated  his  helmet  a  moment; 
then  lifted  his  woebegone  eyes.  "  Ye  see,  lad  —  me 
bein'  on  the  force  so  long;  the  missus  and  kids 
and  the  neighbors  all  bein7  used  to  seein'  me  in  the 
blue  uniform;  it  gives  a  man  a  kind  of  official 
standing  ye  see." 

They  understood  his  pride  in  his  uniform,  and  the 
importance  it  gave  him  in  his  own  world. 

"I  don't  see  what  I  can  do,  Clancy,"  said  David, 
with  kindness. 

"I  was  thinkin',  Davy,"  said  the  policeman,  softly, 
yet  eagerly,  "maybe  if  you'd  go  to  Mr.  Holmes  for 
me  and  tell  him  just  how  it  was  —  and  my  record  on 
the  force  and  all.  Of  course,  if  it  was  anything 
crooked  or  white-livered  —  taking  graft  from  the 
saloons  or  sneakin'  away  fum  a  tough  crowd  — 
why,  I  wouldn't  ask  it.  But  I  was  thinking  if  ye'd 
show  him  just  how  this  was  —  not  mentionin'  Cos- 
tello  by  name,  of  course" —  He  paused  with  an 
eager,  yet  suspended  hope. 

"He  wouldn't  see  it  as  we  do,"  said  David.  "As 
prosecuting  attorney  he  has  no  relatives  —  nor 
friends,"  he  added  with  a  wilful  truth. 

Clancy's  eyes  fell.  "Well,  I  was  thinkin'  I'd 
ask  ye,  lad,"  he  said  as  one  defeated. 

"I'll  go  to  him  and  do  my  best  for  you,"  David 
replied  quickly.  "But  I  don't  think  it'll  do  any 
good." 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  173 

The  policeman  seemed  gloomily  baffled  by  this 
idea  of  a  prosecuting  attorney  who  wouldn't  do  his 
own  brother-in-law  a  friendly  turn.  "Well,  do 
what  ye  can/7  he  said.  He  picked  up  his  helmet. 
"I  know  you're  square,  anyhow,  Davy/'  he  added, 
emphasizing  the  pronoun. 

Some  two  weeks  after  this  another  caller  gave 
Louise  a  different  light  upon  David's  down-town 
activities  in  the  world  of  men.  The  caller  appeared 
before  David  had  come  home  to  dinner.  He  seemed 
at  the  first  sight  a  very  grumpy  old  gentleman  — 
spare,  with  a  smooth-shaven  upper  lip,  square-cut 
gray  whiskers,  and  a  high,  three-cornered  forehead. 
He  asked  surlily  for  David.  Louise  said  he  was 
probably  still  at  the  street  railroad  office. 

"They  told  me  there  he'd  gone  home,"  the  old 
gentleman  replied,  in  a  manner  that  evinced  sus 
picions  of  her  veracity. 

"I'm  sorry,"  she  murmured,  coloring,  and  lifted 
up  her  magazine.  She  was  sitting  on  the  narrow 
porch. 

The  caller  took  a  chair,  uncompromisingly,  held 
his  stiff,  brown  glazed  straw  hat  squarely  across  his 
knees,  and  took  a  formidable  bite  of  his  underlip, 
showing  glaringly  false,  white  teeth.  Louise  pre 
tended  to  ignore  him.  She  peeked,  however,  and 
saw  him  eye  David's  approaching  figure  in  a  squint 
ing,  belligerent  manner.  He  did  not  rise  or  move 
in  any  way  when  David  came  to  the  porch,  nor  give 
any  sign  in  recognition  of  his  "How  d'  do." 


174  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

Instead  he  said,  "I've  come  to  get  back  that  street 
railroad  stock  of  mine." 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  accommodate  you,"  David 
replied  lightly. 

The  man  shut  his  jaws  tight,  his  underlip  pro 
truding  slightly,  and  regarded  David  malevolently 
through  narrowed  eyes. 

"You  swindled  me  out  of  it,"  he  said.  "If  you 
don't  want  trouble,  you'll  give  it  back." 

David's  face  darkened  with  quick  anger.  Then 
he  laughed.  "You're  just  a  crank,"  he  said  in  a 
way  that  dismissed  it. 

1 '  Crank,  am  I  ?  "  The  old  gentleman  softly  ground 
his  teeth,  and  his  voice  rose.  "You  swindled  me  out 
of  it.  You  knew  this  electric  light  deal  was  coming 
off  and  'twould  make  my  stock  worth  twice  what  you 
paid  me  for  it.  I  want  it  back,  I  tell  you  !" 

"Well,  you  won't  get  it,"  David  replied,  his  own 
voice  lowering.  He  turned  to  Louise,  his  back  to 
the  visitor.  "Is  dinner  ready?" 

"I  think  so,"  she  said.  David  held  the  door  open 
for  her,  and  she  walked  in.  As  David  followed  her 
the  old  gentleman  shouted,  "Rogue!  Swindler!" 
David  shut  the  door  in  his  face  and  against  his  shaken 
fist. 

"Who  is  he,  David?  What  is  it?"  Louise  asked 
breathlessly. 

"Oh,  old  man  Bryerly,"  he  replied,  as  though  it 
bored  him,  and  with  a  slight  frown  on  his  face.  "He 
made  some  money  running  a  livery  stable  here. 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  175 

Everybody  knows  him  for  an  ignorant,  stupid  old 
crank.  He  got  some  street  railroad  stock  in  an 
early  day,  and  he  kicks  about  everything.  The 
company  issued  bonds  to  pay  for  the  new  power 
house.  Old  Bryerly  went  around  roaring  that  it 
would  ruin  the  company  —  bored  everybody  to 
death.  Titus  finally  shut  him  out  of  the  bank.  He 
pestered  me,  wanting  me  to  buy  his  stock.  When 
this  electric  light  deal  took  promising  shape,  I  did 
buy  it.  Now,  evidently  he's  heard  about  the  deal, 
and  he  wants  his  stock  back.  You  can't  do  anything 
with  such  people  except  to  knock  'em  on  the  head.'7 

"Davy  —  tell  me  all  about  this  electric  light  deal. 
How  is  it  that  you  expect  to  make  so  much  money 
out  of  it?" 

They  were  going  into  the  dining  room,  and  he  put 
his  arm  around  her.  "It's  very  simple,  Loie.  Our 
new  power-plant  is  a  ripper  —  if  I  do  say  it  as 
shouldn't.  I  stood  out  to  have  it  built  right,  if  it  did 
take  a  lot  of  money.  It's  like  any  other  first-class 
factory ;  we  can  produce  electric  current  very 
cheaply.  Those  electric  light  fellows  are  cheap- 
Johns.  Their  plant  is  a  cheap  old  junk  heap,  out 
of  date,  inadequate,  and  it  falls  to  pieces  as  fast  as 
they  can  patch  it  up.  So  it  costs  'em  a  great  deal 
more  than  it  ought  to  operate  it.  They've  got  to 
raise  a  big  sum  and  build  a  modern  plant  or  sell  out 
to  us.  We  use  current  mostly  in  the  day  time. 
They  use  it  mostly  in  the  evening.  It's  something 
like  running  one  flour-mill  part  of  the  day,  then 


176  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

another  the  rest  of  the  day,  when  you  might  as  well 
do  all  the  grinding  in  one  mill.  In  a  word,  we  can 
handle  their  business  a  good  deal  cheaper  than  they 
can  handle  it  themselves.  They  don't  extend  the 
light  service  as  they  ought  to  because  they  haven't 
the  plant  to  take  care  of  it.  We  will  give  the  city 
a  much  better  service  than  they  do,  at  the  same  price 
they  charge,  and  make  a  big  profit  on  it,  too.  It's 
good  straight  business,  girl." 

She  supposed  it  was.  He  had  told  her  that  they 
purposed  doubling  the  capital  stock  of  the  street 
railroad  company  on  the  strength  of  it,  and  that  the 
new  stock  would  be  worth  par  or  more  within  a  year. 
There  were  some  reservations  in  her  mind,  which, 
however,  she  recognized  as  being  unbusinesslike  — 
perhaps  too  fastidious  for  a  workaday  world.  For 
example,  why  should  the  few  stockholders  take  all 
the  benefit  to  themselves?  Why  shouldn't  they  be 
satisfied  with  half  as  much  profit,  and  reduce  the 
price  of  lights  somewhat? 

She  took  her  place  at  the  table.  "All  the  same, 
dear,  I  wish  you  hadn't  bought  the  'old  crank's ' 
stock,"  she  said. 

"Somebody  was  bound  to  buy  it.  He  wanted  to 
sell  it.  He  offered  it,"  David  replied  earnestly. 
"Why  shouldn't  I  buy  it?" 

"Maybe  just  because  he  is  an  'old  crank/"  she 
replied  rather  vaguely,  and  smiled  a  little. 

It  was  repugnant  to  her  feeling.  In  a  way  an 
advantage  had  been  taken  of  the  old  man.  She 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  177 

knew  the  common  judgment  of  men  would  fully  jus 
tify  David.  It  was  good  business.  She  must  not 
worry  him  with  mere  womanish  qualms.  In  the 
case  of  Policeman  Clancy  she  wished  he  had  not 
gone  to  intercede  with  Winthrop  —  although  he 
went  without  any  hope  of  success,  and  had  none. 
On  his  part  that  was  simple  generosity,  just  as  the 
purchase  of  Bryerly's  stock  and  the  electric  light 
deal  were  simply  business.  She  realized  that  his 
genial,  practical-minded  nature  would  take  a  view 
of  many  things  different  from  hers.  After  all,  these 
cases  were  mainly  matters  of  feeling,  without  any 
very  clear  moral  issue. 

"We've  got  to  make  some  money,  you  know  — 
the  way  the  architect  and  contractor  are  piling  it 
up  on  the  house/7  he  said,  laughing. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

DOG-DAYS,  and  hot !  The  town  groaned  and 
sweltered.  A  constant,  glassy  shimmer  rose  from 
the  big  iron  roof  of  the  new  car-barn. 

The  power-house  was  completed  and  the  street 
railroad  company  had  taken  possession  of  it.  The 
front  of  the  big  brick  shell  was  occupied  by  the 
offices  —  the  clerical  force  downstairs,  the  mana 
gerial  staff  above.  The  second-story  suite  opened 
on  a  balcony  that  overlooked  the  dynamo  room. 
Up  there  a  little  man  in  overalls  was  painting  a  sign 
on  the  ground-glass  panel  of  the  further  door.  The 
sign  said,  "Vice  President  and  General  Manager." 

The  directors  had  voted  David  the  position  when 
possession  was  taken  of  the  power-house,  of  which  he 
had  been  so  much  the  builder.  It  was  not  an  empty 
honor,  for  it  carried  an  increase  of  salary  from  four 
to  six  thousand  dollars  a  year.  Moreover,  Epperson 
had  formally  assented  to  the  plan  to  take  over  the 
electric  light  plant,  and  Titus  was  negotiating  with 
the  Chicago  owners. 

The  stubby  sign-painter  wiped  his  moist  brow  on 
an  oily  sleeve  and  cast  a  hungry  glance  at  the  elec 
tric  fan  which  whirled  on  the  vice-president's  desk, 

sending  out  a  wind  that  ruffled  that  official's  hair  and 

178 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  179 

puffed  the  shoulders  of  his  negligee  shirt  as  he  sat 
dictating  to  a  stenographer.  A  visitor,  puffing 
from  the  stairs,  tapped  the  sign-painter's  shoulder 
as  notice  to  stand  aside,  and  entered  the  cool  room 
mopping  a  red  face. 

"Talk  about  hell !"  he  observed. 

David  swung  around  in  his  chair  and  sprang  up, 
exclaiming,  "  Dennis,  how  are  you?"  and  clapped 
the  shorter  man  on  the  shoulder. 

He  had  seen  very  little  of  O'Neill  lately.  As  he 
looked  down  at  the  stocky,  humorous  old  man,  his 
heart  was  constricted.  He  noticed  the  blanched 
hair  and  deep  wrinkles.  Old  Dennis  was  getting  old 
indeed. 

David  nodded  to  the  stenographer,  who  obediently 
faded  into  the  next  room ;  called  to  the  sign-painter, 
11  Close  the  door."  Then  with  an  affectionate  hand 
he  pushed  Dennis  to  the  seat  at  the  end  of  the  desk. 
At  the  moment  he  happened  to  recollect  that  it  was 
Dennis  who  had  got  him  his  good  start  with  the  street 
railroad.  The  visitor  surveyed  his  host  with  the  old, 
humorous  twinkle. 

"Ye  seem  to  take  marriage  easy,  Davy.  Likely 
ye'd  been  vaccinated." 

David  laughed,  but  was  ashamed.  Dennis  had 
not  been  to  their  house.  "How  are  you  getting 
along?"  he  asked. 

"Fine,"  said  Dennis.  He  paused  a  moment, 
twinkling.  "Our  Nogiac  friends  realize  that  they're 
in  the  hole.  Ye're  acquainted  with  Allan  Thomas, 


180  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

of  the  Grand  Mogul.  Allan  inherited  a  gob  of  stock, 
and  so  got  into  the  game.  He  hadn't  any  brains 
to  speak  of  in  the  beginning,  and  what  he  had  he's 
been  carefully  cooking  in  whiskey  for  twenty  years. 
What  he's  got  in  the  inside  of  his  head  now  would 
make  a  rotten  punkin  look  Shakespearian." 

"Oh,  I  know  Allan,"  David  assured  him. 

"  Allan's  the  genius  that  got  up  the  scheme  to  burn 
me  out." 

"Of  course,  I  know  that.  Dolton  confessed  it," 
said  David. 

"Allan  did  it  all  by  himself,"  Dennis  continued. 
"But  nobody  would  believe  it.  At  least  the  news 
papers  wouldn't.  They'd  charge  it  up  to  the  whole 
combine.  The  distillery  fellows  are  getting  up  a 
big  trust,  Davy.  They're  anxious  to  bring  it  out 
in  a  dress  as  white  as  the  driven  snow.  The  Wall 
Street  lads  that  are  going  to  put  up  the  cash  have 
got  nervous.  They  don't  want  any  scandals  on  their 
innocent  hands.  Old  Alphabet  and  me's  been  talk 
ing  it  over." 

David  turned  the  ruler  in  his  hand,  for  a  moment 
avoiding  Dennis's  shrewd,  steady,  eyes.  He  thought 
he  knew  what  was  coming. 

"They've  made  me  a  proposition,"  Dennis  con 
tinued.  "They're  going  to  buy  my  little  booze  fac 
tory  at  the  satisfactory  price  of  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars.  They've  deposited  fifty  thousand 
in  escrow  with  friend  Titus  as  an  evidence  of  good 
faith." 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  181 

David  realized  that  on  the  one  hand  there  was  a 
comfortable  fortune  for  Dennis ;  on  the  other  hand 
perhaps  bankruptcy  —  for  the  fight  with  the  Nogiac 
crowd  had  pressed  him  hard.  ' '  What  are  the  terms  ?  " 
he  asked  kindly. 

"The  terms  are  that  the  distillery  trust  be  formed 
and  floated  according  to  plans  and  specifications 
October  first  next.  Which  it  won't  be  unless  friend 
Allan's  case  is  choked  off  and  some  other  matters  — 
that  I  ain't  got  anything  directly  to  do  with  —  are 
straightened  out.  It  lies  here,  my  lad.  The  Wall 
Street  boys  has  got  to  dig  up  some  thirty  million 
dollars  to  launch  it  proper.  Old  Alphabet  tells  me 
the  Wall  Street  boys  are  sore.  The  newspapers  and 
congressmen  and  other  public  enemies  has  been  pitch 
ing  into  'em  very  stiff  of  late.  Their  sensitive  natures 
are  hurt.  What's  more  to  the  point,  it  hurts  their 
business.  They've  put  their  foot  down  that  there 
mustn't  be  any  scandal.  Sending  Allan  to  the  pen 
for  arson  w^ould  be  a  scandal." 

"You  know  the  situation,  Dennis,"  said  David. 
"Dolton  has  made  a  confession  and  put  it  in  writing. 
Winthrop  Holmes  has  it.  You  and  I  and  Fred 
Hasbrook  and  Winthrop  heard  it.  Winthrop's  got 
Dolton  snug  in  jail,  ready  to  turn  state's  evidence. 
You  know  Winthrop.  I  don't  see  how  they  can 
save  Thomas  from  the  penitentiary,  except  by  brib 
ing  the  jury." 

"Well,  neither  do  I  see  how  they're  going  to  do  it," 
said  Dennis.  "But  you  know  devilish  queer  things 


182  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

are  done  sometimes.  Old  Alphabet's  very  chipper 
and  confident  about  it,  and  Old  Alphabet,  Davy,  is 
a  mighty  wise  and  sinful  party.  Look  here,  lad. 
This  trust  means  so  many  million  dollars  that  it 
makes  simple,  hard-working  men  like  you  and  me 
dizzy  to  think  about  it.  Burnin'  up  half  a  million 
or  so  wouldn't  jar  'em.  And  with  enough  money  to 
burn,  ye  can  do  about  what  you  want  in  this  wicked 
world.'7 

"I  doubt  if  they  can  pull  this  off,"  said  David. 
"Although  I  have  a  high  opinion  of  Old  Alphabet's 
ability." 

"In  view  of  the  three  hundred  thousand,"  Dennis 
observed,  "I'm  resigned  to  seein'  his  dishonorable 
talents  triumph.  I  needn't  tell  ye  that  I've  dropped 
out  of  the  prosecuting.  The  check  for  fifty  thousand 
changed  me  heart.  I  seemed  to  see  'twould  be  a 
shame  to  send  a  good,  idiotic  man  like  Allan  to  the 
pen.  If  the  case  comes  up  for  trial,  I'll  be  unavoid 
ably  absent.  Old  Alphabet  mentioned  you." 

"What  about  me,  Dennis?"  David  asked,  still 
kindly. 

Dennis  regarded  him  a  moment.  "Ye  went  in 
on  my  side  of  it,  Davy ;  as  my  man,"  Dennis  replied 
quietly.  "My  side  now  ain't  what  it  was  then.  But 
ye're  married  to  the  law  and  order  side,  as  I  explained 
to  Old  Alphabet.  I'm  not  askin'  ye  to  come  over 
with  me,  lad  —  and  ditch  yer  brother-in-law.  But 
I'm  thinkin'  ye  might  properly  set  on  the  fence,  like 
—  anyhow  until  Old  Alphabet  has  a  fair  chance  to 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  183 

see  what  he  can  pull  off.  The  long  and  short  of  it  is, 
Davy,  I  thought  it  no  more  than  right  to  show  you 
just  how  the  case  stands  with  me." 

"  Quite  right,  so  far,  Dennis.  I'm  glad  you  did. 
It's  always  good  to  see  you — "  He  checked  him 
self.  He  hadn't  been  enjoying  that  pleasure  as 
much  as  it  was  open  to  him  to  do  so.  "I  wish  you 
to  come  out  of  it  on  top  of  the  heap  anyway." 

For  some  minutes  after  Dennis  left  David  sat 
still,  thinking  it  over.  So  the  distillers  were  astir 
at  last ;  Old  Alphabet  was  at  work.  He  believed  a 
great  deal  —  not  cynically,  but  as  a  matter  of  open- 
eyed  experience  —  in  the  power  of  money.  Few 
understand  better  than  himself  the  possibilities  of 
that  murky  underworld  of  crooked  politics  and 
crooked  business  which  was  Old  Alphabet's  kingdom. 
That  able  practitioner,  with  his  unlimited  chicane 
and  unlimited  funds,  could  go  far. 

Deep  down  in  his  genial  and  practical  mind  there 
was  a  kind  of  irritation  against  his  brother-in-law's 
stubborn,  narrow-minded  view  of  life  as  a  thing  that 
could  always  be  squared  with  the  law.  His  sym 
pathies  could  not  attach  themselves  very  strongly 
to  that  side  in  a  case  which  appeared  to  him  primarily 
as  simply  a  contest  between  t)ennis  and  the  Nogiac 
fellows  over  the  price  to  be  paid  for  a  certain  dis 
tillery.  Perhaps  there  was  the  hint  of  a  sports- 
manly  attitude  in  the  interest  with  which  he  awaited 
developments. 

The  next  development  came  ten  days  later,  when 


184  WHEN  LOVE   SPEAKS 

Titus  telephoned,  asking  him  to  call  at  the  bank. 
Inside  the  bank,  thanks  to  the  awnings,  the  thick 
stone  walls,  and  the  electric  fans,  it  was  quite  cool. 
This  coolness,  the  light  subdued  as  compared  with 
the  glare  outside,  befitted  the  powerful  institution. 
The  president's  room,  with  solid,  handsome  furnish 
ings,  was  even  dimmer  and  cooler  than  the  bank 
itself.  Titus  motioned  to  a  seat  at  the  end  of  the 
desk,  leisurely  crossed  his  legs,  and  silently  offered  a 
cigar,  for  it  was  closing  time  and  the  stress  of  the 
day's  business  was  over. 

"Davy,  I've  got  something  for  you,"  the  hand 
some  banker  began  with  a  smile  of  good- will.  "It 
don't  exactly  belong  to  you,  either."  His  smile  of 
good- will  broadened  over  the  joke.  He  glanced  up 
to  see  that  the  door  was  closed. 

"Confidentially,  the  distillers  are  going  into  a 
trust.  It  will  be  a  big  thing.  All  the  Nogiac  plants 
will  go  in,  and  the  best  ones  in  Illinois,  Pennsylva 
nia,  and  Kentucky.  One  of  the  strongest  houses  in 
Wall  Street  will  furnish  the  cash  and  float  the  se 
curities."  He  paused  to  knock  the  ashes  from  his 
cigar,  still  smiling  a  little.  "There  are  about  a 
dozen  small  concerns  that  will  be  bought  up  for  cash 
beforehand  and  turned  over  to  the  trust  when  it  is 
formed.  Dennis  O'Neill's  plant  here  is  one  of  them 
—  and  it  will  be  simply  a  godsend  to  Dennis,  for  he's 
hard-pressed.  There  is  going  to  be  a  little  syndicate 
that  will  buy  up  these  small  concerns  for  cash. 
Subscriptions  to  the  syndicate  will  amount  to  three 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  185 

millions.  When  the  trust  is  formed,  the  syndicate 
will  turn  over  the  plants  at  a  clean  profit  of  three- 
quarters  of  a  million.  I've  saved  up  a  fifty-thousand- 
dollar  subscription  for  you." 

"I  haven't  any  money  now,"  said  David. 

"Of  course,  that  won't  make  any  difference," 
said  the  banker.  "The  money  to  float  the  trust  is 
ready.  The  syndicate  will  be  able  to  borrow  what 
ever  it  needs." 

David  understood  perfectly.  With  the  money 
provided  by  the  trust  promoters  the  syndicate  would 
buy  certain  properties,  paying  three  millions  for 
them,  and  immediately  sell  them  to  the  trust  for 
three  and  three-quarters  millions.  Thus  the  only 
real  function  of  the  syndicate  would  be  to  distribute 
among  its  subscribers  a  clean  profit  of  three-quarters 
of  a  million  dollars,  or  twenty-five  per  cent  of  the 
amount  of  their  subscriptions.  The  trust  promoters 
chose  this  method  of  making  a  present  to  various 
men  whose  good-will  they  wished  to  secure.  David 
could  guess  that  certain  politicians  would  be  among 
the  subscribers  to  the  syndicate.  Other  men,  in 
cluding  journalists,  even  judges,  would  take  a  bribe 
in  this  specious  form. 

David  himself  met  it  plumply.  "The  fact  is, 
Mr.  Titus,  I'm  due  to  give  some  evidence  that  may 
land  Allan  Thomas  behind  the  bars." 

Titus  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  cigar,  coolly. 
"You  mean  that  arson  case.  Here's  the  situation, 
Davy :  Allan  Thomas  is  a  drunken  fool.  He  got 


186  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

up  that  arson  scheme  absolutely  single-handed. 
Charlie  Schwartz  and  his  friends  have  satisfied 
Dennis.  They'll  give  him  three  hundred  thousand 
for  his  plant.  So  far  as  Dennis  is  concerned  the 
arson  plot  turns  out,  not  an  injury,  but  a  godsend. 
Nobody  cares  a  damn  about  Thomas  personally. 
But  the  newspapers  and  demagogues  and  blather 
skites  generally  will  kick  up  a  row  and  say  the  whole 
distillery  crowd  was  in  it.  We're  mighty  anxious 
to  avoid  such  things.  Winthrop  Holmes  isn't  any 
more  honest  than  anybody  else.  He  don't  care  a 
damn  about  Thomas.  He's  trying  to  use  that  case 
simply  to  discredit  the  whole  distilling  crowd.  We 
don't  propose  to  have  it  made  a  handle  to  hurt  a 
hundred  million  dollars  worth  of  property  and  give 
ammunition  to  the  socialists  and  yellow  newspapers 
who  are  doing  their  best  to  ruin  the  country."  The 
banker  did  not  raise  his  voice,  but  the  deeper  spirit 
in  his  good-natured  brown  eyes  shone  out. 

"The  point  is,  I  don't  see  how  you're  going  to 
stop  it,"  David  argued  mildly. 

" That's  in  Codley's  hands,"  said  the  banker. 
"How  he  proposes  to  head  it  off,  I  don't  know  — 
and  don't  care.  He  says  he  can  do  it,  and  he  usu 
ally  gets  results.  Here's  a  big  industry,  Davy; 
a  hundred  million  dollars  worth  of  property;  big 
profits.  There's  no  equity  or  decency  in  using  Al 
lan  Thomas's  drunken  break  as  a  club  to  beat  down 
all  this  business.  We  don't  propose  to  let  a  crank 
like  Winthrop  Holmes  do  it.  That  man  has  no  more 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  187 

business  to  hold  a  public  office,  Davy,  than  a  child 
has  with  a  loaded  gun,  because  he  hasn't  any  sense 
of  the  proportion  of  things.  See  how  he  knocked  us 
out  of  the  State  Fair  here.  That's  just  a  sample. 
We  don't  want  any  business  scandals  and  hullaba 
loos.  We've  had  enough  of  7em.  Good  Lord ! 
Here's  this  socialistic  blatherskite  Sykes  going  to 
run  for  governor  —  with  a  maximum  freight  rate 
bill,  and  trebling  railroad  taxes,  and  hell  to  pay 
generally.  It's  hurting  everything.  I  tell  you, 
Davy,  it's  time  to  close  ranks,  if  the  country  isn't 
going  to  the  dogs  !  That's  the  way  I  feel  about  it." 

David  remained  glumly  silent. 

The  banker  was  eying  him  with  some  coldness. 
"The  able  men  —  the  men  who  can  do  things  —  are 
going  to  run  the  world,  you  know,"  he  added. 
"They've  got  to;  for  the  other  crowd  simply  can't. 
This  syndicate  I  spoke  of  —  of  course,  the  idea  is 
to  save  up  the  subscriptions  for  people  to  whom  the 
trust  will  feel  rather  indebted,  or  whose  good-will  will 
be  valuable.  Strictly  speaking,  I  don't  know  that 
you  belong  very  much  to  either  class.  I  put  you 
down  for  fifty  thousand,  Davy,  because  I  feel  that 
you  belong  with  us  —  the  capable  men  who  can  do 
things." 

"There's  no  doubt  about  your  good- will,  Mr. 
Titus,"  David  replied.  "But  as  the  case  stands,  I 
can't  take  it." 

"Sorry,"  said  the  banker.  He  was  annoyed  by 
David's  rejection  of  an  offer  which  he  had  really 


188  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

meant  in  good  part,  as  an  expression  of  his  liking 
for  the  young  man.  He  didn't  want  to  see  David 
go  wrong  and  tie  himself  up  with  the  losing  crowd. 
He  thought  he  saw  signs  of  going  wrong.  When 
David  went  out,  he  thought,  "  Dennis  O'Neill  was 
right;  his  wife's  got  him  hypnotized;  too  bad." 
His  opinion  of  David's  ability  fell  a  number  of  points. 

David  was  fully  aware  of  this,  and  it  disturbed 
him.  He  went  home  thoughtfully,  with  a  vexed 
mind.  His  wife  was  quick  to  notice  the  abstraction 
in  his  eyes. 

"What  is  it,  Davy?"  she  asked  with  a  gentle 
abruptness. 

He  told  her  about  his  talk  with  Titus. 

"I  don't  care  about  the  twelve  thousand  dollars 
I  might  have  made  in  the  syndicate,"  he  commented, 
"nor  that  Titus  and  Epperson  happen  to  control 
my  job.  The  real  thing  is  that  they  rather  control 
my  future.  I  suppose  running  a  street  railroad  isn't 
much  to  brag  of;  but  it's  what  I've  been  thinking 
about  doing  since  I  left  school.  I've  had  ideas 
about  it  and  have  worked  for  them.  I've  got  the 
power-house  now,  and  am  in  the  way  of  getting  the 
electric  light  business.  After  that  there  will  be 
other  things  I'll  want  to  do.  But,  you  see,  I  can't 
take  a  step  except  with  the  help  of  Titus  and  Epper 
son.  I've  always  thought  of  myself  as  a  business 
man,  and  in  business,  anywhere,  you  can't  do  any 
thing  nowadays  except  with  the  help  of  the  men  who 
can  command  capital.  Your  ideas  are  no  good 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  189 

unless  you  can  get  capital.  You  can't  get  capital 
unless  you're  businesslike.  Naturally  Titus  takes 
the  businesslike  view  of  this  arson  affair." 

"What  is  that  view?"  she  asked. 

"Why,  the  arson  plot  was,  in  fact,  simply  a  bit  of 
irresponsible  drunken  folly.  They  don't  propose  to 
have  it  made  a  handle  to  hurt  a  whole  big  industry 
with.  And  Dennis,  the  man  against  whom  it  was 
aimed,  has  actually  profited  by  it.  Why  should 
anybody  else  complain?" 

"How  profited?" 

He  smiled.  "Well,  you  mustn't  tell  Winthrop; 
but  the  fact  is  Dennis  has  sold  out  to  the  combine  — 
got  the  price  he  wanted  for  his  plant,  you  know ;  so 
hereafter  he'll  be  working  on  the  Nogiac  fellows' 
side.  He  won't  testify  against  Thomas." 

"He  must!"  she  cried.     "The  law  requires  it!" 

He  smiled  again.  "The  lawr  is  disappointed  in  its 
requirements  every  day." 

"It's  abominable,  David!  It's  shameful!"  she 
exclaimed  hotly.  "Is  the  law  a  minor  item  of  a 
whiskey  trade  ?  Winthrop  ought  to  know  about  it ! " 

"No!"  he  said  peremptorily.  "Understand,  the 
old  man  told  me  in  confidence.  It's  a  cold  fact, 
Lou,  that  under  the  circumstances  any  other 
prosecuting  attorney  than  Winthrop  would  sim 
ply  drop  the  case  —  the  prosecuting  witness  being 
satisfied." 

"Thank  God,  Winthrop  doesn't  take  that  view!" 
she  replied. 


190  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

Each  of  them  felt  the  sharp  edge  of  a  division. 
It  remained  with  them  a  number  of  days;  then 
something  happened  that  took  it  away. 

He  had  scarcely  reached  the  office  one  morning 
when  Louise  called  him  up  on  the  telephone,  ex 
citedly.  An  hour  later  she  telephoned  him  from 
Winthrop's  house.  Directly  after  luncheon  he  called 
her  up  there.  Again,  about  half-past  three,  she 
telephoned  him.  He  hurried  with  his  work,  and 
left  the  office  early. 

When  he  reached  the  rickety  gate,  he  saw  his 
wife  across  the  ragged  shrubbery.  The  sight  of 
her  vaguely  relieved  him,  as  though  she  had  been 
rescued  from  some  mysterious  peril.  He  hastened 
across  to  meet  her. 

" All'  still  well?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  yes!  Kittie's  doing  splendidly.  They  let 
me  see  her  a  minute  before  I  came  away.  It's  the 
dearest  little  girl,  Davy!" 

He  sat  beside  her  on  the  battered  rustic  bench 
under  the  apple  trees,  and  Louise  told  him  all  about 
it,  low  and  quietly.  They  forgot  all  about  Dennis 
and  business.  The  tiny  stranger  that  had  come  into 
the  world  absorbed  their  hearts.  Now  and  then  the 
woman's  breast  fluttered  with  a  long  breath.  He 
saw,  deep  in  her  steady  eyes,  that  she  dreamed 
forward  with  dread  and  courage  to  the  day  when  her 
own  time  would  come.  In  the  curve  of  her  lips  he 
saw  a  deeper,  sweeter  yielding  to  him  than  ever 
before.  Going  in  to  dinner  he  slipped  an  arm 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  191 

around  her  —  feeling  that  he,  the  male,  with  all 
his  problems  and  tasks,  was,  after  all,  hardly  more 
than  a  watcher  of  the  show  of  life.  He  thought,  with 
a  mind  both  chastened  and  uplifted,  "My  business 
affairs  —  running  a  street  railroad  — making  money 
—  what  does  all  that  amount  to  ?  The  greatest 
thing  is  to  do  right  by  her." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

FATHERHOOD  uplifted  and  softened  Winthrop 
Holmes.  Also,  it  made  him  absurdly  nervous. 
In  the  midst  of  his  work  he  suddenly  thought  of 
anxious  little  inquiries  or  directions  to  be  telephoned 
to  the  house.  He  was  actually  uneasy  because  busi 
ness  was  calling  him  to  Nogiac  for  a  night  and  a  day. 

A  covered  way  connected  the  Court  House  with 
the  jail.  Winthrop  traversed  it  hastily,  a  type 
written  manuscript  in  his  hand,  and  followed  the 
turnkey  upstairs  to  one  of  the  large  cells  that  were 
reserved  for  women  or  for  prisoners  whose  confine 
ment  was  to  be  made  as  light  as  possible.  Except 
for  the  iron  bars  at  the  window  there  was  nothing 
prisonlike  about  it.  On  the  contrary  it  seemed 
merely  a  clean,  bare,  rather  airy  bedroom.  The 
prisoner,  Dolton,  was  sitting  by  the  window,  and 
arose,  cordially,  as  Winthrop  entered.  The  prose 
cuting  attorney  noticed  that  the  book  which  the 
man  hastily  laid  on  the  window-sill  was  the  Bible. 

Dolton  was  elderly,  and  wore  a  flowing  gray  beard. 
He  was  never  without  a  blue  coat  adorned  by  brass 
army  buttons  and  the  insignia  of  the  Grand  Army  of 
the  Republic  on  the  lapel.  Thus,  at  first  sight,  one 
saw  an  old  soldier.  Some  there  were,  more  cynical, 

192 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  193 

who  at  second  sight  seemed  to  perceive  a  professional 
old  soldier. 

"Here  it  is,  Dolton,"  said  Winthrop,  cheerfully, 
and  extended  the  typewritten  manuscript. 

Dolton  adjusted  his  spectacles  deliberately.  "Yes, 
sir.  Here  she  is,"  he  said  meekly.  He  cleared 
his  throat.  "Mr.  Holmes,  I'm  puttin'  myself  in 
your  hands  —  more,  I  guess,  'n  you  really  realize. 
There's  just  one  thing  about  it  that  I  don't  really 
like.  Your  friend,  Mr.  Hasbrook,  is  goin'  to  give 
me  a  little  stake,  to  git  myself  out  of  these  parts  with, 
and  maybe  set  up  a  little  farm  out  West  somewhere. 
Says  I  to  him,  '  Mr.  Hasbrook,  there's  only  one  con 
dition  that  makes  me  take  your  money.  I'm  takin' 
it,'  says  I,  'to  save  my  life.'  With  what  I'm  goin' 
to  put  down  in  black  and  white  in  this  here  confes 
sion,  Mr.  Holmes" — he  tapped  the  manuscript 
impressively  with  his  forefinger  —  "over  and  about 
what's  in  it  now  about  burnin'  Dennis's  plant  — 
Mr.  Holmes,  I  don't  honestly  believe  my  life'd  be 
worth  ten  cents  if  I  stayed  around  here.  You  don't 
know  them  fellows  like  I  do."  He  gave  a  nod  and 
formidable  wink. 

"They're  a  bad  lot,  Dolton,  a  bad  lot,"  Winthrop 
assented. 

"You  bet  they're  a  bad  lot,"  the  ex-gauger 
replied.  "I  been  in  with  'em,  too  —  thick  and  thin." 
He  looked  apprehensively  about  the  room  and  lowered 
his  voice.  "I  can  put  you  in  the  way  of  findin'  out 
what  become  of  Tommy  Preston  that  disappeared 


194  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

and  they  said  had  run  off  with  some  money  of  the 
Three  Kings.  I  ain't  wanted  to  go  into  details 
very  much,  Mr.  Holmes.  Now  that  I've  made  up 
my  mind  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  I  want  to  set  it 
all  down  careful  in  black  and  white,  just  like  this 
here  is  set  down."  He  tapped  the  written  con 
fession  again.  "And  I  wouldn't  take  a  cent,  either 
—  I'd  do  it  for  the  good  of  the  country  —  only  I 
gotta  have  some  money  to  get  away." 

"I  understand,  Dolton,"  Winthrop  replied, 
quickly  and  sympathetically.  "For  my  part  I 
believe  you'd  be  safe  right  here  in  Sauganac.  But 
I  can't  urge  you  to  take  a  chance  —  since  Frederick 
is  ready  to  give  you  a  lift.  The  country  will  get 
the  good  of  what  you  do,  just  the  same." 

"You  think  I'd  be  safe,  Mr.  Holmes,"  the  prisoner 
replied  with  dignity,  "because  you  don't  know  'em. 
Do  you  know  why  I  sleep  ?  It's  on  account  of  them 
iron  bars  at  the  window  and  the  steel  doors  down 
stairs.  I  wouldn't,  Mr.  Holmes"  —  he  lifted  up 
the  manuscript  impressively  —  "I  wouldn't  for 
ten  thousand  dollars  walk  out  of  this  jail  and  spend 
the  night.  I  know  ?em,  sir.  And  another  thing, 
Mr.  Holmes,  that  I've  said  before.  I  want  strict 
orders  give  downstairs,  strict  orders  that  no 
strangers  is  to  be  allowed  to  visit  me,  nor  come 
around  my  room  except  there's  a  guard  with  'em. 
No,  sir  !  And  if  you  should  be  goin'  away  any  time, 
Mr.  Holmes  —  if  you  should  be  goin'  out  of  town, 
even  for  a  day" — his  voice  rose,  with  nervous 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  195 

anxiety  —  "I  want  you  should  lemme  know,  and 
tell  Endicott  over  again  that  no  strangers  is  to  git 
next  to  me." 

Winthrop  laid  a  comforting  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
"Rest  easy,  Dolton,"  he  said.  "No  strangers  will 
come  near  you.  I  am  going  to  Nogiac  to-night. 
But  be  perfectly  secure.  I'll  speak  to  Endicott 
again.  But,  without  that,  you  might  rest  perfectly 
easy." 

"I'm  restin'  easy,  Mr.  Holmes,  because  I'm  restin' 
in  jail,"  said  Dolton,  and  again  nodded,  with  a  por 
tentous  wink. 

Winthrop  could  not  help  smiling  a  little  over  the 
old  man's  nervousness,  as  he  went  out.  Also,  he 
was  encouraged.  It  had  taken  much  persuasion  to 
get  Dolton  to  the  point  of  confessing  all  he  knew 
about  the  distillers.  Finally,  he  would  do  it  only 
in  his  own  way;  insisting  on  having  his  confession 
of  the  arson  case  as  a  model  to  guide  him  in  putting 
everything  down  in  black  and  white.  Just  how  much 
the  confession  would  amount  to  Winthrop  did  not 
know.  But  he  was  encouraged  by  the  hope  that 
when  he  returned  from  Nogiac  next  afternoon  Dolton 
would  have  something  really  important  for  him. 

When  he  did  return  the  next  afternoon,  having 
been  absent  in  Nogiac  twenty-four  hours,  Endicott, 
the  tall  and  bilious  sheriff,  was  at  the  station  to 
meet  him. 

"Dolton's  out  on  bail;  Judge  Showman  released 
him  this  afternoon,"  said  the  sheriff. 


196  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

Winthrop  seized  his  arm  and  pushed  him  along 
as  though  they  must  hurry  to  prevent  something. 

" Wesley  Wogan  appeared  for  him,"  Endicott 
continued,  falling  in  with  the  other's  hurried  stride. 
"  Showman  took  it  up  in  chambers  and  released  him 
on  a  fifteen-hundred-dollar  bond.  Schlimmel,  the 
saloon-keeper,  signed  the  bond." 

" Where  is  he?  Where's  Dolton?"  Winthrop  de 
manded,  throwing  his  shoulder  against  a  swinging 
door  from  the  trainshed  to  the  waiting-room  of  the 
station. 

"  Wogan  popped  him  into  a  cab  and  they  disap 
peared.  I've  got  Nesbit  and  Sears  looking  for 
him,"  said  the  sheriff. 

"He  got  away!"  the  prosecuting  attorney  cried, 
and  halted  abruptly  in  the  waiting-room.  "Why 
didn't  you  telephone  me,  Endicott  ?  Why  didn't  you 
stop  it  ?  "  His  voice  was  excited,  harsh,  and  accusing. 

"There  was  no  time,"  Endicott  replied.  "They 
had  it  all  cooked  up  beforehand.  Codley's  in  town. 
Before  God,  I  believe  Judge  Showman  had  been 
prepared  for  it.  They  evidently  knew  you  were 
going  out  of  town.  The  first  we  knew  —  I  was  out 
at  the  moment  —  came  Wogan  with  an  order  from 
the  judge  to  bring  the  prisoner  before  him.  Of 
course,  the  jailer  couldn't  do  anything  but  obey, 
and  he  sent  a  man  on  the  run  to  find  me.  When  I 
got  there — in  the  judge's  chambers  —  the  judge 
and  Wogan  and  Dolton  and  Schimmel  were  there, 
and  the  clerk.  Bail  had  already  been  accepted.  I 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  197 

objected  all  I  could  —  urged  Showman  to  wait  until 
you  returned.  He  said  it  was  a  perfectly  simple 
case  —  a  man  in  jail  on  a  charge  of  attempted  arson, 
which  was  certainly  a  bailable  offence,  and  as  satis 
factory  bail  w^as  offered  there  wras  no  alternative  but 
to  release  him.  I  asked  him  for  a  word  apart.  He 
agreed  to  that ;  but  bail  had  already  been  accepted. 
As  we  stepped  aside,  Dolton  and  Wogan  and  Schlim- 
mel  walked  out.  I  dropped  the  judge  and  ran  after 
them,  meaning  to  have  Nesbit  keep  watch  of  them. 
But  the  cab  was  waiting  and  they  disappeared.  It 
was  all  a  put-up  job!" 

"We  must  find  him,  Endicott !  We  must  find 
Dolton!"  Winthrop  cried.  "It  was  a  put-up  job! 
Ah  —  I've  let  them  beat  me!"  He  clenched  his  big 
fists  until  the  nails  bit  into  the  palms;  his  face 
drew  as  though  he  suffered  physically. 

He  saw  it  now.  While  he  rested  in  a  false  security, 
the  cunning  enemy  had  been  plotting,  and  they'd 
sprung  a  mine  under  him !  No  doubt  that  pre 
tended  niece  of  the  prisoner  was  the  go-between. 
How  they  must  laugh  over  the  facile  manner  in 
which  that  miserable  bum  Dolton  had  pulled  the 
wool  over  his  eyes  —  even  contriving  to  get  posses 
sion  of  his  own  written  confession,  and  carrying  it 
off  with  him ! 

"I  ought  to  have  put  a  charge  of  attempted  murder 
against  him.  Then  they  couldn't  have  got  him  out," 
he  muttered.  The  sense  of  his  own  culpability  ate 
into  his  mind. 


198  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

"We  must  find  Dolton  and  rearrest  him  on  the 
other  charge/'  he  said  quite  dully;  and  added, 
"I'm  going  up  to  see  Showman." 

"No  use  quarrelling  with  the  court,  you  know," 
Endicott  cautioned. 

Winthrop  did  not  reply.  He  knew  that  quarrelling 
with  the  court  was  bad  practice,  and  he  foresaw 
that  he  would  get  nothing  out  of  the  interview. 
But  he  could  not  bear  his  own  helplessness.  His 
indignation  demanded  a  vent.  He  took  a  cab  to 
the  judge's  house. 

Judge  Showman,  a  spare,  undersized  man,  with 
yellowish  hair,  which  he  wore  affectedly  long,  and 
prominent  blue  eyes,  left  his  dinner  table  and  came 
in  to  Winthrop,  beaming  hospitably,  with  out 
stretched  hand. 

Winthrop  gripped  the  slim,  aristocratic  palm. 
"Judge,  why  did  you  let  Dolton  go?"  he  blurted 
out  in  his  distress. 

The  judge  quickly  withdrew  his  hand,  straighten 
ing  and  freezing  with  offended  dignity.  "Permit 
me  to  remind  you,  sir,  that  what  I  do  is  not  subject 
to  review  by  the  prosecuting  attorney;  and  I'm 
not  in  the  habit  of  discussing,  in  my  home,  my 
actions  on  the  bench,"  he  said,  in  full,  judicial  tones. 

Winthrop  stood  before  him,  looking  down  in  a 
huge  helplessness.  At  the  same  time  there  was 
something  unpleasant  in  his  eye. 

"I  think  you  might  have  waited  to  hear  me," 
he  said  stubbornly.  "I  supposed  you  knew  —  I 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  199 

thought  you  understood  there  was  a  lot  more  in  the 
case  than  the  formal  charge  of  attempted  arson." 

Judge  Showman  exhibited  the  outspread  palms 
of  polite,  but  sarcastic  surprise.  "How  was  I  to 
know  ?  Do  you  think  I  run  my  court  on  gossip  — 
or  by  reading  the  thoughts  of  the  able  prosecuting 
attorney?  The  man  Dolton  was  locked  up  on  a 
strictly  bailable  charge.  Good  bail  was  offered.  If 
you  happen  to  be  acquainted  with  the  statute,  you 
are  aware  that  I  had  no  alternative  but  to  release 
him." 

On  its  face  this  was  unanswerable.  Winthrop 
saw  that  he  was  getting  nothing  out  of  the  quarrel 
with  the  court.  Still  his  troubled,  smouldering 
glance  was  bent  upon  the  seamed,  intellectual, 
rather  aristocratic  face  —  trying  to  read  some 
thing.  It  was  exactly  the  sort  of  situation  that 
Old  Alphabet  was  so  skilful  in  dealing  with  — 
something  to  be  done  which  was  outwardly  fair  and 
which,  therefore,  could  be  done  without  danger  of 
exposure.  Winthrop's  own  integrity  was  loath  to 
think  evil.  Yet  he  knew  of  such  little  arrangements 
as  Titus's  distillery  syndicate,  in  which  even  judges 
sometimes  participated. 

"If  you  want  Dolton  on  another  matter,  why  don't 
you  have  him  rearrested?"  the  judge  suggested. 

Winthrop  could  read  nothing  in  the  lines  of  this 
face.  "I  shall  try  to,"  he  answered  rather  help 
lessly.  He  felt,  however,  that  it  would  be  a  difficult 
task.  Undoubtedly  the  plot  had  been  well  laid. 


200  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

The  plotters  would  do  their  best  to  keep  the  ex- 
gauger  out  of  the  toils.  It  was  plain  enough  that 
he  had  been  paid  money  —  probably  a  good  deal  of 
money.  Every  one  knew  that  Wogan  had  no 
money.  Endicott  had  said  that  Codley  was  in 
town. 


CHAPTER  XX 

LEAVING  Judge  Showman's,  there  remained  with 
the  prosecuting  attorney  the  bitter,  wounding 
knowledge  that  he  had  been  egregiously  tricked. 
Codley  was  in  it.  The  distillers'  money  was  in  it. 
He  felt  the  stir  and  pull  of  many  forces,  potent, 
secret,  sinister,  that  were  arrayed  against  him  to 
balk  the  law.  And  at  the  first  pass  with  them  he 
had  been  badly  beaten.  This  hardened  his  resolu 
tion.  The  blow  that  fell  upon  him  heated  his  will. 
He  could  not  rest  that  evening;  but,  soon  after  a 
late  and  hurried  dinner,  went  over  to  the  old  home 
stead. 

As  he  stepped  into  the  old  sitting  room  its  long- 
familiar  homeliness  assailed  his  heart.  Someway 
it  came  back  to  him  how  his  mother  had  sat  at  that 
round-topped,  black-walnut  table  reading  by  the 
light  of  the  fat-bodied  lamp  with  an  immemorable 
crack  across  its  yellow  shade  —  just  as  Louise  now 
sat  with  her  chin  up-tilted  a  little,  smiling.  There 
was  something  that  had  to  do  with  the  beginnings 
of  his  life ;  something  homely,  peaceful,  sweet,  out 
of  the  good,  calm  middle-distances  of  life  itself. 
Even  this  alien  masculine  figure  rising  genially  from 
the  other  side  of  the  table  did  not  jar.  On  the  con- 

201 


202  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

trary,  through  him  Winthrop  seemed  suddenly  to 
understand  his  sister  better  —  to  see  her  drawing 
him  into  her  love  and  the  good,  sweet  air  of  the  old 
home.  The  prosecuting  attorney  took  the  old  horse 
hair  rocking-chair,  facing  both  husband  and  wife. 

" They've  got  Dolton  away  —  slipped  him  out 
on  bail,  David,"  he  began  abruptly. 

"  Yes,"  said  David.  From  the  tone  Louise  under 
stood  that  he  knew  of  it.  She  softly  clasped  her 
hands  in  her  lap,  sitting  erect,  her  lips  slightly  apart, 
regarding  her  husband,  then  her  brother.  Winthrop 
also  was  surprised  to  find  that  David  knew  of  Dol- 
ton's  release.  Dennis  O'Neill  had  told  him. 

"It  leaves  me  rather  lame,"  Winthrop  went  on, 
after  an  instant  in  which  he  was  vaguely  disconcerted. 
"Of  course,  I'm  to  blame.  I've  let  them  make  a  fool 
of  me."  He  said  it  simply.  "Dolton  got  me  to  let 
him  take  his  written  confession  —  on  the  pretence 
that  he  wanted  to  elaborate  it.  He's  carried  it  off 
with  him."  He  smiled  a  little,  while  the  emotion  — 
which  with  him  operated  very  powerfully  in  its 
narrow  field  —  tugged  at  his  heart.  "I  almost 
wish  he'd  taken  one  of  my  arms  instead.  It  weakens 
my  case  against  Allan  Thomas;  but  it  doesn't  kill 
it  by  a  long  shot.  I  have  Fred  Hasbrook's  testi 
mony,  and  yours,  and  Dennis  O'Neill's  —  unless 
they've  bought  Dennis  off,  too." 

David  was  aware  that  his  wife  turned  her  head  to 
look  at  him  eagerly ;  but  he  did  not  answer. 

"It  seems,"  said  Winthrop,  "that  those  fellows 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  203 

have  made  up  their  minds  to  clear  Thomas  at  any 
cost  —  to  beat  the  law  if  they  can." 

" That's  a  matter  of  course,"  David  replied  rather 
lightly. 

"Why  should  it  be?"  Winthrop  asked,  as  though 
he  really  did  not  know. 

"Why,  because  it  is  to  their  profit  to  clear  him. 
As  the  case  lies  it  would  seriously  interfere  with 
their  business  plans  to  have  one  of  their  men  con 
victed  of  a  crime.  Probably  if  the  truth  were  known, 
Thomas  knows  so  many  trade  secrets  that  they're 
simply  bound  to  stand  by  him  anyway.  You 
wouldn't  expect  them  to  play  into  your  hands!" 

"I  can't  see  it  as  a  game  to  be  played,  or  a  business 
profit,  or  a  case  to  be  won  or  lost,  David,"  said  the 
prosecuting  attorney.  "The  way  I  look  at  it,  the 
law  is  all  we  have.  The  poor  and  weak  can't  have 
any  other  defence,  finally.  It  doesn't  answer  to  say 
we'll  defend  it  another  time,  on  another  issue. 
We're  always  saying  that.  The  people  happened  to 
elect  me  to  defend  the  law,  and  I  can't  help  feeling 
a  terrible  responsibility."  He  unfolded  his  big 
hands  and  slid  them  along  his  lap,  palms  upward  — 
a  little  foolish  motion  made  by  muscles  that  ached 
to  strain  themselves  until  they  cracked.  "I  want 
the  chance  to  fight  this  fight  right.  They  mean  to 
blindfold  me  and  give  me  a  lath  sword,  as  they've 
always  done  by  the  people's  lawyer.  I  don't  pro 
pose  to  let  them." 

"Quite  right,  of  course,  Winthrop!"  David  as- 


204  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

sented  frankly.  "Of  course,  you  ought  to  make  the 
best  fight  you  can.  And  you  must  expect  them 
to  make  the  best  fight  they  can.  You've  been 
unlucky/7 

Winthrop  did  not  reply  to  that.  His  eyes,  fixed 
on  the  lamp,  grew  rounder  and  glowed ;  then  turned 
abruptly  to  his  brother-in-law. 

"  You  and  I  could  lay  them  by  the  heels,"  he  said. 

"How?"  David  demanded  in  surprise. 

"You  can  prove  bribery  in  that  old  Barbour 
matter  —  bribe  money  and  a  letter  directing  how 
it  was  to  be  paid  were  sent  to  you." 

Louise  caught  her  breath  and  paled.  This  was 
the  matter  of  the  bribery  of  Barbour,  a  member  of 
the  legislature  from  Mission  County,  who  had  sold  his 
vote  in  favor  of  an  amendment  to  the  dramshop 
act,  and  died  before  the  bribe-money  was  paid  over. 
David  had  made  the  Nogiac  men  pay  over  the  money 
for  the  benefit  of  Barbour's  widow.  He  had  told 
Louise  the  facts  —  which  at  the  time  he  had  refused 
to  divulge  to  Winthrop  who  had  a  certain  wind  of 
them.  Lately,  in  an  intimate  talk  with  her  brother, 
Louise  had  repeated  the  facts  to  him  —  in  defence 
of  David. 

Now  David  did  not  look  at  his  wife;  but  he  an 
swered  sharply,  even  challengingly,  "If  I  have  such 
proof,  it  is  not  at  your  disposal."  It  hurt  him  that 
Louise  had  told ;  and  in  Winthrop's  request  that  he 
betray  the  men  who  had  trusted  him  he  saw  only  a 
sort  of  hateful  fanaticism. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  205 

"I  want  to  put  it  squarely  before  you,"  said 
Winthrop,  "for  I  think  you  ought  to  testify  against 
them.  You  know  well  enough  that  those  fellows 
will  do  everything  in  their  power  to  reestablish  their 
rule  —  even  down  to  that  murdered  girl  on  the 
beach.  They  ought  to  be  fought  everywhere,  at 
every  corner,  to  the  last  ditch.  I  tell  you,  David, 
there  never  was  a  bigger  battle  —  never  anywhere  ! 
I  don't  mean  just  this  one  here  in  Mission  County, 
but  everywhere,  all  over  the  country  —  this  fight 
against  corrupt  politics  and  thieving  business  and 
the  alliance  between  the  two !  David,  it's  just  as 
much  a  war  for  right  and  human  liberty  as  any  that 
ever  was  fought !  The  call  comes  right  now  to  every 
man  to  choose  which  side  he  will  be  on  !"  Winthrop 
bent  his  big  body  forward  and  struck  his  fist  into  his 
palm. 

David  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  somewhat  wearily. 
"Say  that  I'm  deaf  then,"  he  answered  curtly. 
"Certainly  I  don't  hear  the  call.  See  here,  Win 
throp.  I  broke  into  that  Barbour  case  to  get  some 
money  for  a  woman  and  children  who  needed  it  badly. 
If  I'd  been  attending  to  scruples,  naturally,  I'd  have 
piously  refused  to  touch  the  case  —  and  let  the 
woman  and  children  whistle.  My  scruples  aren't 
worth  that  much  to  me.  I'd  rather  the  woman  and 
children  had  the  money.  And  the  Nogiac  fellows 
met  me  in  the  open.  Say  they  supposed  I  was  more 
or  less  one  of  them.  That  doesn't  matter.  They 
met  me  openly  and  trusted  me.  Under  those  cir- 


206  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

cumstances  for  me  to  give  them  away — "  He 
threw  up  his  hands  to  express  its  impossibility. 
"You  know  how  the  information  came  to  you,"  he 
added,  still  without  looking  at  his  wife. 

Winthrop  did  not  reply  to  that.  He  considered 
a  moment;  then  spoke  more  quietly.  "I  want  to 
fight  this  fight  right,  David.  I  simply  want  the 
chance  to  fight  it  right.  Those  fellows  have  always 
had  to  deal  with  a  people's  lawyer  who  was  a  mere 
pasteboard  figure,  a  jumping-jack  that  they  worked 
the  strings  of.  They'll  have  to  go  up  against  a 
man  sometime,  David.  I  want  to  be  that  man  and 
hit  them  square  and  true  between  the  eyes.  That 
will  do  more  good,  it  will  be  worth  more  to  the 
people  of  Mission  County,  than  anything  else  that 
could  happen.  They're  not  really  formidable. 
When  a  real  man  in  office  goes  against  them, 
they  crumple  up.  I  hoped  to  be  the  man."  His 
voice  had  sunk  as  he  went  on  and  his  round  eyes 
were  again  fixed  on  the  lamp.  "With  you  at  my 
side,  Davy,  I  could  do  it." 

"I  stand  by  my  friends,  and  what  seems  to  me  my 
honor,"  David  replied. 

Again  Winthrop  considered,  without  moving  his 
eyes  from  the  lamp.  "I  can't  help  talking  to  you  as 
the  prosecuting  attorney,"  he  said.  "I've  simply 
got  to  do  that  —  sound  the  call  for  you,  David. 
I  hope  you  know  it  isn't  because  I  want  to  gain  some 
personal  credit  or  cut  a  figure  or  anything  as  cheap 
as  that,  On  the  personal  side,  perhaps  it's  always 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  207 

a  bit  humiliating  to  ask  another  man  to  help  you. 
But  I  don't  care  about  that.  This  Dolton  affair 
opens  my  eyes  more  than  ever  to  my  own  limitations. 
They  simply  made  a  fool  of  me  there.  So  I  said  to 
myself,  'I  won't  omit  anything  —  not  anything; 
I'll  go  to  David,  who  is  an  abler  man  than  I  am  in 
many  ways,  and  call  on  him  to  help  me  —  for  the 
sake  of  the  great  responsibility  that  rests  upon  me.' 
And  I  thought,  too,  that  your  feeling  about  the 
issues  that  are  involved  here  had  rather  changed." 

That  glanced  plainly  at  Louise's  influence  upon 
him,  and  so  it  irritated  him  afresh  against  Winthrop's 
narrow  intensity. 

"I  hope  my  feeling  about  what  seems  to  me  my 
honor  will  never  change,"  David  replied  dryly. 
"That  is  the  only  answer  I  can  give." 

There  was  a  pause.  Then  Winthrop  looked  around 
at  his  brother-in-law,  and  spoke  even  more  quietly. 
"  There's  a  personal  way  in  which  I  hope  we  won't 
misunderstand  each  other,"  he  said.  "Your  happi 
ness  must  be  a  good  deal  to  me  when  it's  bound  up 
in  the  happiness  of  the  two  women  who  are  dearest. 
I  simply  hoped,  now,  you  would  be  on  my  side. 
There  were  cases  in  the  war  of  brothers  firing  at  each 
other  —  and  still  with  personal  love." 

"Oh,  but  why  do  you  say  I'm  firing  at  you? 
Why  do  you  say  I'm  on  the  enemy's  side?"  David 
exclaimed. 

"It's  the  way  I  feel  about  it,"  Winthrop  replied. 
"To  me  there  are  just  the  two  sides.  When  the  call 


208  WHEN  LOVE   SPEAKS 

comes  to  any  man,  I  think  he  must  be  of  one  side  or 
the  other." 

"Well,  I  don't  hear  any  such  call,"  David  answered, 
as  giving  it  up. 

Winthrop  arose.  "I  suppose  you  couldn't  tell  me 
whether  Dennis  O'Neill  has  sold  out?"  he  asked 
simply.  "It  would  be  an  advantage  to  know  now  — 
instead  of  a  week  later." 

"I  couldn't  tell  you,"  David  replied. 

"Of  course,  I'm  disappointed,"  said  Winthrop, 
very  simply.  "But  I'll  make  the  best  fight  I  can. 
Good  night,  David."  He  spoke  it  kindly. 

"Good  night,"  David  replied  in  an  even  tone. 
He  did  not  arise,  however. 

Louise  went  with  her  brother  to  the  door.  She 
held  his  hand  a  moment,  looking  deep  into  his 
eyes.  His  face  showed  work  and  anxiety.  He  had 
spoken  of  two  brothers  firing  from  opposite  sides  — 
but  there  were  only  a  few  men  on  his  side :  a  thin, 
heroic  little  line,  hard  pressed  by  the  prosperous  foe. 
With  a  sudden  passion  she  raised  his  hand  to  her 
lips ;  then  fairly  pushed  him  out-of-doors. 

The  kiss  stung  David's  heart.  He  saw  her  turn 
from  the  door  with  big,  dry,  shining  eyes.  Instinc 
tively,  with  a  searching  pain,  he  gathered  himself 
against  an  outburst.  But  she  came  to  him  silently, 
sat  down  on  the  stool  by  his  feet,  took  his  hand 
between  her  palms.  He  saw  her  body  trembling 
slightly. 

"I'm    between    two    fires,    Davy."     She    spoke 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  209 

slowly,  low,  and  with  uncertain  accents  in  the 
struggle  to  keep  herself  well  in  hand.  "I'm  all 
—  all  on  Winthrop's  side,  dear.  I  feel  it  just  as  he 
feels  it  —  a  great  battle  for  justice  and  freedom  and 
truth.  I  know  the  other,  too  —  I  mean  some  obli 
gations  of  good  fellowship  and  a  kind  of  good  faith. 
I  know  you  have  a  fondness  for  Dennis  O'Neill,  too. 
But  as  against  this  other — against  this  great  claim  of 
truth  and  right  —  "  Her  voice  ceased.  She  looked 
dumbly  up  into  his  face,  with  a  tender  yearning 
question.  "You  don't  hear  the  call,  dear?"  she 
asked,  not  much  above  a  whisper. 

"Those  men  trusted  me,  Loie,"  he  answered 
firmly.  "Dennis  trusts  me  and  loves  me.  To  give 
them  away  —  or  to  betray  Dennis  —  why,  it's 
simply  impossible." 

Still  holding  his  hand,  she  rested  her  cheek  against 
his  knee,  her  face  turned  away,  and  so  for  some 
minutes  they  were  silent.  He  stared  down  at  her 
soft,  wavy  hair  and  her  smooth  cheek. 

"Yet  even  now,  Davy,"  she  said,  "I  don't  know 
but  that  I  should  tell  Winthrop  that  Dennis  has  sold 
out." 

His  only  answer  was  a  sigh. 

"I  wish  you  to  think  about  it,  dear,"  she  went  on, 
after  a  pause;  "to  keep  it  in  mind  all  the  time. 
We'll  say  this  case  is  doubtful;  but  sometimes  I 
could  —  almost  —  be  afraid.  Because  you're  a  bit 
light-hearted,  Davy,  and  have  friends  who  are  ras 
cals."  She  waited  a  moment.  "There  are  some 


210  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

things  I  simply  couldn't  bear  —  simply  couldn't 
bear." 

David  stared  down  at  the  lovely  head.  His 
heart  chilled.  He  felt  she  was  judging  him.  "Need 
you  say  this  to  me,  Loie?"  he  said,  under  his  breath, 
with  pain. 

She  raised  her  head,  quickly;  her  face  lifted, 
tender,  her  eyes  half  closed.  "  Forgive  me  the 
thought,  Davy!  Forgive  me  the  fear!"  she  ex 
claimed.  And  even  then  a  sharp,  small  voice  within 
her  said,  " Weakling!" 


CHAPTER  XXI 

MR.  CODLEY  was  again  at  the  Sauganac  House. 
He  learned  that  the  prosecuting  attorney  was  not 
daunted  by  the  defection  of  Dennis  and  the  dis 
appearance  of  Dolton,  but  meant  to  go  ahead  with 
the  case. 

"  All  right,"  said  Old  Alphabet,  blandly,  to  Wogan. 
"Let  him  go  ahead.  The  next  shot'll  fetch  him  off 
his  perch." 

The  hotel  was  unusually  full,  for  it  was  the  first 
day  of  court.  Every  train  brought  relays  of  out-of- 
town  lawyers,  clients,  witnesses,  and  others  drawn  by 
the  big  net.  Many  persons  climbed  the  flights  of 
broad  plank  steps  that  led  from  the  street  level  to  the 
little  plateau  on  which  the  sandstone  cube  of  the 
Court  House  stood,  surmounted  by  its  tall  clock 
tower.  Many  loitered  in  the  open,  under  the  bright 
September  sun,  peopling  the  wooden  benches  on  the 
grounds.  Within  the  building  there  was  a  bustle 
of  coming  and  going.  The  sleepy  air  of  the  long 
summer  vacation  was  broken. 

But  in  spite  of  the  stir  the  halls  and  offices  were 
pervaded  by  a  dusty  smell  —  an  atmosphere  of 
government,  of  officialdom,  of  law,  as  though  it  were 

breathed  out  of  the  rows  of  calf-bound  volumes. 

211 


212  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

Lawyers,  clerks,  witnesses,  all  who  came,  took  it 
into  their  nostrils,  and  to  all  except  the  hardened 
habitues  it  brought  a  peculiar  sense  —  as  though 
they  were  in  the  presence  of  formal,  long-descended 
authority. 

During  the  day  Winthrop  Holmes  filed  his  infor 
mation  —  corresponding  to  an  indictment  —  against 
Allan  Thomas,  duly  charging  him  with  an  attempt 
to  commit  arson.  Without  waiting  to  be  arrested, 
the  distiller  appeared  in  court  and  gave  bail,  until 
the  case  could  be  heard. 

This,  to  Louise,  was  as  Lexington,  and  at  the 
breakfast  table  next  morning  she  looked  eagerly  to 
see  what  the  newspapers  would  say.  Julius  Brown's 
Daily  News  said  never  a  word.  It  had  a  long,  hu 
morous,  descriptive  article  about  the  opening  of 
court,  but  the  Thomas  case  was  not  mentioned.  Of 
course,  Julius  was  the  mere  creature  of  the  distillers. 
She  took  up  the  Times,  the  solid  and  leading  paper 
of  Sauganac,  which  had  supported  Winthrop  vigor 
ously  in  his  campaign  for  the  prosecuting  attorney- 
ship.  There  were  no  first-page  headlines  on  the 
case,  such  as  she  had  expected  to  see;  nothing  on 
the  second  page,  either.  Court  news  was  on  the 
third  page,  and  here,  almost  at  the  bottom  of  the 
column,  in  agate  type,  among  abbreviated  records 
of  proceedings,  she  found  this :  — 

"People  v.  Thomas;    bail,  $2000." 

That  was  all.  There  was  no  editorial  reference 
to  the  matter.  She  looked  up  from  the  page,  sur- 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  213 

prised,  and  caught  David's  questioning,  rather 
amused  glance. 

" Why  doesn't  the  Times  say  something  about  it?" 
she  asked  abruptly. 

"  Just  as  I  told  you,  Lou,"  he  replied.  "  Winthrop 
is  manning  a  wooden  cannon.  He's  firing  blank 
cartridges.  Probably  Barstow  doesn't  say  anything 
about  the  case  because  Epperson  and  Titus  asked 
him  particularly  not  to,  and  he  doesn't  think  it  im 
portant  enough  to  take  the  risk  of  disobliging  them. 
Epperson's  patent-medicine  advertisements  and 
Titus's  countenance  are  worth  too  much  to  him  to 
be  hazarded  where  there  seems  so  little  to  be  gained. 
Barstow  knows  Winthrop  has  half  lost  his  case 
already.  The  solid,  practical  ability  of  the  town 
wouldn't  uphold  him  in  pushing  the  prosecution. 
Not  that  those  men  condone  arson  as  a  general  propo 
sition  ;  but  because  in  this  particular  case  the  busi 
ness  injury  that  will  result  from  discrediting  the 
distillers  just  at  this  time  seems  to  them  much  more 
important  than  going  ahead  in  a  very  doubtful 
attempt  to  enforce  a  minor  statute  against  a  certain 
offender." 

"I  see,"  she  replied  with  vigor,  "and  I  abhor  it! 
It  means  simply  that  we  must  lie  down  and  let  the 
scoundrels  walk  over  us  again  because  some  money 
will  be  lost  if  we  don't !  Davy,  you  don't  believe 
what  you're  trying  to  make  me  think  you  do  —  that 
it's  all  a  matter  of  expediency  and  compromise  and 
business  interests.  You  can't  believe  that  and  be 


214  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

a  man  !"  She  caught  her  breath;  but  her  eyes  did 
not  falter. 

"I  hardly  said  it,  Loie,"  he  replied.  "You  know 
that  cowardice  isn't  among  my  faults.  I'm  simply 
saying  that  the  solid,  practical  ability  of  the  town 
doesn't  see  the  virtue  in  pushing  a  fight  that  is  so 
nearly  lost." 

"But  it  isn't  nearly  lost,  Davy!  It  can't  be!" 
she  exclaimed.  "Don't  you  see  ?  It  isn't  just  a  cer 
tain  arson  case.  It's  the  fight  for  everlasting  truth 
and  right !  We  believe  now  it  doesn't  make  any 
difference  whether  one  is  Roman  Catholic  or  Prot 
estant.  But  when  Latimer  and  Ridley  went  out 
to  die  at  the  stake  for  their  Protestantism,  weren't 
they  glorious?  Not  that  their  theology  mattered; 
but  because  they  gave  their  lives  for  everlasting 
freedom  and  truth.  It's  just  the  same  here,  dear ! 
Nobody  cares  about  a  certain  arson  case,  except  that 
it  marks  the  issue  between  fraud  and  lies  on  one  side, 
and  law  and  truth  on  the  other.  It's  truth,  Davy ! 
It's  right !  Don't  you  see,  Davy  ?  What  the  court 
and  jury  may  finally  say  is  secondary.  It's  you  and 
Winthrop  and  Frederick  that  have  a  case  to  win  or 
lose  —  by  standing  immovably  for  what  is  true ; 
or  deserting.  Which  one  of  you  could  fail?" 

"Well,  I  couldn't,  Loie,"  he  replied  good- 
naturedly.  "I'm  not  given  the  option,  don't  you 
see ;  it  isn't  left  open  to  me.  Winthrop  has  me 
subpoenaed.  Naturally,  I  have  no  idea  of  running 
away !" 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  215 

"Yes."  Her  hands  dropped  in  her  lap.  "I 
know  you'll  not  fail,  dear/7  she  added  softly.  Yet 
his  very  geniality,  the  light-hearted  way  in  which 
he  spoke  of  it,  subtly  wounded  her. 

The  way  the  Times  buried  the  case  impressed  her. 
She  understood  now  that,  as  David  said,  the  domi 
nant,  practical  business  sense  of  the  community  did 
not  support  Winthrop.  He  must  fight  it  out  mostly 
alone.  Her  own  will  hardened. 

In  the  afternoon  she  made  an  occasion  to  walk  by 
the  Court  House.  She  could  not  see,  now,  the  ab 
surd  row  of  granite  columns.  Her  mind  was  not  in 
an  attitude  to  acknowledge  even  an  architectural 
absurdity  in  the  dull  gray  old  structure.  The  stone 
walls  looked  enduring.  The  generation  that  reared 
them  had  passed  away.  They  would  stand,  while 
others  yet  unborn  filled  their  span  upon  the  scene 
and  passed.  The  question  with  her,  then,  was  not 
what  her  and  David's  little  measure  of  personal  hap 
piness  might  be,  but  whether  they  took  the  trust 
which  descended  to  them  as  children  of  men  and  kept 
it  true  and  passed  it  on  unblemished. 

A  reaction  of  which  she  herself  scarcely  knew  the 
power  was  upon  her.  Love  had  carried  her  away  in 
an  irresistible  tide.  That  tenderness,  searching  and 
immense,  which  had  made  her  touch  even  inanimate 
things  that  belonged  to  him  with  conscious  love, 
had  also  made  a  coward  of  her.  The  thought  of 
putting  herself  in  opposition  to  him,  of  doing  any 
thing  which  would  make  him  less  eager  to  be  at  her 


216  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

side,  had  been  intolerably  painful.  But  all  the  time 
a  principle  within  her  had  dumbly  protested  that  this 
was  not  the  right  way;  that  she  must  stand  firmly 
upon  her  own  feet  if  she  wished  to  be  the  influence 
in  his  life  which  she  had  purposed  being.  He  was 
genial,  light-hearted.  That  very  day  she  had 
abruptly  seen  herself  as  she  had  been  a  year  before 
—  all  armed  and  stanch  against  his  moral  careless 
ness.  How  far  she  had  come  ! 

Now,  she  saw  clearly  a  weakness  in  herself  which 
she  had  not  suspected  a  year  before  —  a  possibility 
of  shuffling,  of  running  away  from  the  battle  when 
her  love  beckoned.  She  had  left  off  to  watch  and 
be  sober.  It  was  not  only  David's  soul,  therefore, 
but  her  own  that  she  must  now  stand  firm  for.  She 
had  a  certain  great  courage  and  it  was  now  aroused. 
Having  seen  herself  slipping  and  yielding,  all  her 
passion  for  integrity  now  cried  out  to  her.  The  idea 
of  any  further  shuffling  was  intolerable.  It  was  sim 
ply  prostitution.  She  could  cry  out  against  it,  "No, 
no,  no  !  Here,  exactly  here;  this  very  minute  !" 

There  was  even  that  impatience  in  her.  As  she 
looked  up  at  the  gray  old  Court  House  she  wished 
the  trial  might  be  even  then ;  that  she  and  David 
were  going  in  the  next  moment,  hand  in  hand,  to 
face  the  distillers  and  Dennis  O'Neill  and  Titus  and 
Epperson  and  the  " practical  ability  of  the  town"  — 
that  all  the  ruck  of  shuffling  fellows  might  have  their 
answer  at  once,  full  in  the  face. 

She   walked   slowly,   yet  soon  passed  the  little 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  217 

capitol.  Her  mood  pleaded  for  bodily  motion,  so 
she  kept  on  to  Overlook  Boulevard.  The  weather, 
in  early  September,  was  superb,  with  the  full  opu 
lence  of  summer  on  the  leafy,  lawn-edged  street  and 
over  the  green  panorama  of  the  river  valley.  She 
scarcely  thought  whither  she  was  going  until  she 
had  nearly  reached  the  city  limits ;  then  she  thought 
of  the  new  house  —  perhaps  because,  a  little  way 
ahead,  the  pleasant  prospect  of  the  street  was  marred 
by  a  steamy  mortar-box,  some  piles  of  lumber,  and  a 
general  litter  of  building. 

She  spoke  pleasantly  to  the  white-jacketed  work 
man  who  was  stirring  the  mortar  with  a  hoe,  and  to 
the  hod-carrier  who  stepped  off  the  inclined  bridge 
of  boards  that  led  to  the  porch  to  make  way  for  her. 
The  house  was  hip-roofed  and  in  a  colonial  style. 
Temporary  sashes  had  been  put  in  some  of  the  win 
dows.  Others  were  boarded  up  with  odds  and  ends 
of  waste  lumber.  The  doorway  gaped  like  a  raw 
breach  in  a  wall,  showing  a  junk-like  heap  of  plumb 
ers  tools  and  materials  in  the  hall.  The  woodwork 
of  the  porch  was  soiled  with  the  touch  of  many  grimy 
fingers,  and  there  was  a  brown  daub  across  it  where 
a  paint-pot  had  been  upset.  The  house  looked  as 
though  it  were  falling  to  pieces  even  in  the  building, 
as  though  ruin  followed  close  at  the  workmen's  heels. 
Louise  was  aware  of  the  same  vague  discourage 
ment  that  she  had  felt  before.  These  raw,  belittered 
spaces  some  way  refused  to  shape  themselves  in  her 
imagination  as  a  home. 


218  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

She  glanced  about  the  hall,  which  was  only  rough- 
plastered,  looking  into  the  living  room  where  work 
men  were  busy ;  went  aimlessly  to  the  dining  room, 
which  was  silent  —  but  not  empty,  for  Ted  Penrose 
sat  on  an  overturned  box  staring  at  the  grate. 

"So  this  is  where  you're  coming  to  see  us!  I 
wondered !"  she  exclaimed,  and  laughed.  Some 
way  it  was  good,  very  good  to  see  Ted  there.  He  had 
not  been  at  their  house  for  ten  days. 

He  sprang  up,  smiling.  "I  was  just  helping  my 
self  to  another  potato !"  he  said  gayly.  "A  very 
snug  little  family  dinner." 

"We  still  have  a  potato  to  spare  at  the  other 
place.  Have  you  been  keeping  away  because  you 
thought  we  hadn't?"  She  took  up  his  light  vein; 
but  her  eyes  smiled  deeply  into  his. 

Yes,  it  was  very  good  to  see  him  !  She  had  a  sense, 
not  exactly  definite,  that  a  great  trial  was  coming  on, 
for  which  she  was  steadily  arming  herself.  She 
paused  from  her  toil;  turned  to  Teddie  with  a  sort 
of  fond  gladness,  as  one  rests  from  a  burden. 

"I'm  coming  down,"  he  said  —  "before  I  leave." 
His  lips  still  smiled ;  but  not  his  eyes. 

"Leave ?  You're  not  going  away,  Teddie ? "  She 
stepped  closer  to  him,  regarded  him  more  gravely, 
her  voice  lilting  with  a  certain  sweet  anxiety. 

"Yes,  I'm  going  to  leave,  Loie,"  he  said  soberly. 
"I  wrote  father  to-day.  I've  chucked  it  —  the 
bicycle  trade,  I  mean." 

She  slipped  her  hand  under  his  arm.     "Let's  go 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  219 

outside.  It's  too  plastery  here,  I  don't  think  you 
ought  to  chuck  it,  Ted.  Davy  thought  you  were 
getting  hold  of  it."  Her  fondness  hovered  over 
him,  sisterly  —  a  bit  self-reproachful,  anxious.  They 
went  out  of  the  side  door  and  walked  along  under 
the  maple  trees  that  lined  the  roadway. 

He  told  her  about  it  soberly,  looking  mostly 
straight  ahead  or  down  at  the  grassy  path.  He 
was  the  merest  fizzle  as  a  business  man.  He'd 
tried  it  a  year  and  wasn't  really  getting  any  hang 
of  it  worth  mentioning.  He  hadn't  the  face  to  keep 
up  the  pretence  any  longer.  Besides  —  here  he 
brightened  up  courageously  —  this  thing  took  execu 
tive  ability,  and  he  didn't  have  any  to  give  it.  His 
talents  lay  in  another  direction.  He  thought  his 
father  would  let  him  take  a  try  abroad  as  agent  — 
plenipotentiary  extraordinary — a  kind  of  sublimated 
drummer  —  for  the  stove  works.  He  was  a  good 
jollier;  could  set  'em  up  copiously;  that  seemed  to 
be  the  chief  requisite  in  a  salesman.  He  proposed 
to  try  around  until  he  found  what  he  was  good  for. 
He  wasn't  good  for  bicycles,  so  it  was  best  to  drop 
that. 

He  talked  this  to  her  courageously,  and  although 
she  was  rather  dubious  about  it  she  could  not  find 
any  weighty  argument  against  it. 

Teddie's  principles  were  not  particularly  fastidious. 
Given  another  man  and  another  woman,  he  could 
have  sat  at  the  man's  table,  shaken  his  hand,  smiled 
at  him,  and  coveted  his  wife.  But  not  with  Louise ; 


220  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

not  with  David.  It  had  become  too  gross.  He 
loved  her  too  bitterly.  He  could  not  stay  near,  and 
resist  the  temptation  to  see  her.  The  only  decent 
thing  was  to  go  away. 

They  had  reached  the  corner  of  the  Hasbrook 
grounds,  and  they  turned  in  at  the  little  gate  almost 
mechanically.  It  looked  inviting  under  the  big 
trees.  Presently  they  sat  down  on  a  bench  some 
distance  from  the  house.  She  plied  him  with  ques 
tions.  Just  what  did  he  propose  doing?  Did  he 
mean,  really,  to  keep  on  trying  for  some  career  in 
business,  or  was  this  only  by  way  of  letting  himself 
down  easily  to  an  indefinite  scheme  of  amusement 
abroad  ?  When  they  got  upon  a  ground  of  practical 
conduct  like  this,  she  talked  to  him  a  good  deal  like 
an  older  sister. 

"  You're  always  inclined  to  do  things  that  you 
don't  really  want  to  do,  Ted,"  she  observed  gravely. 
"If  I  found  you  weren't  keeping  up  to  the  mark,  I 
believe  I  should  come  after  you." 

"The  mark's  in  your  own  mind,  Loie,"  he  replied. 
He  leaned  back  on  the  bench,  looking  at  her  with  a 
very  sober  little  smile.  "You're  the  mark  yourself. 
I've  always  known  it  —  you've  been  the  fellow  that's 
cared  most  about  seeing  me  really  and  truly  make 
good.  You  sort  of  took  the  job  on  your  hands  — 
nobody  else  volunteering.  If  I've  got  a  soul,  you've 
been  the  good,  dear  soldier  that's  fought  for  it." 

"Oh,  many  love  you,  Teddie !"  she  said;  but  her 
breast  thrilled  with  this  praise. 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  221 

"It  doesn't  sound  generous,"  he  went  on  quietly, 
without  heeding  the  interruption.  "But  even  that 
—  even  your  interest  —  hasn't  turned  out  lucky  — 
altogether." 

"As  how?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"It's  best  I  should  go  somewhere  else,"  he  replied, 
"'and  it  makes  me  lonesome  to  leave  you." 

"Of  course  you'll  come  back!  Of  course,  you 
must!" 

"One  can't  tell  about  coming  back,  you  know," 
he  answered,  with  a  slight  smile.  "Suppose  I 
shouldn't?"  He  took  her  unresisting  hand.  "Sup 
pose  I  shouldn't,  and  you  and  I  shouldn't  meet 
again?  For  everything,  take  my  thanks,  dear." 
He  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips. 

"I'll  not  think  of  that!  I'll  not  permit  it!" 
She  too  smiled  a  very  little.  "It's  altogether  too 
dismal.  Of  course  you'll  come  back!"  Her  hand 
had  slipped  from  his  and  she  laid  it  lightly  on  his 
shoulder.  "I  know  you,  Ted.  You're  a  lot  better 
than  even  I  have  given  you  credit  for  being.  Don't 
forget  that  when  you  get  over  there."  She  shook 
her  head  at  him,  her  eyes  and  lips  lightening  with 
humor.  "Especially  when  some  other  people  you'll 
probably  meet  begin  to  tell  you  how  good  you  are !" 

Obeying  her  motion  he  arose.  They  laughed 
lightly  together  ;  and,  lightly,  swayed  to  each 
other  so  that  their  shoulders  touched;  their  bodies 
yielding  that  much  to  the  strong  and  tender  currents 
which  drew  them  to  each  other. 


222  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

A  sharp-eyed  maid,  loitering  —  accidentally  — 
behind  a  syringa  bush,  pulled  a  branch  aside  in  her 
eagerness  to  take  in  all  the  details  of  the  scene. 

"When  will  you  come  for  the  potato  —  to-mor 
row?"  Louise  demanded  gayly.  They  were  erect 
now,  and  conventional  again. 

"  We'll  make  it  a  going-away  feast,"  he  answered 
in  her  key,  without  setting  a  day. 

He  saw  her  on  the  street-car ;  stood  by  the  track 
as  it  sped  away.  He  thought,  "It's  the  last  time 
I  shall  ever  see  her." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

TEDDIE  meant  to  leave  town  within  two  days. 
But  he  did  not  do  it.  That  sad  thought,  "It  is  the 
last  time  I  shall  ever  see  her/7  ate  his  heart.  He 
awakened  in  the  night  to  its  pain.  Here  she  was, 
so  near  him,  in  her  beauty,  with  that  air  of  a  creature 
exquisitely  clean,  with  all  her  brave-hearted  fond 
ness.  Elsewhere  was  a  lonesome  waste.  He  loitered. 
It  was  really  so  innocent  to  loiter  on  the  other  edge 
of  the  same  town  —  even  to  go  over  once  more  for  a 
jolly  little  family  dinner. 

And  Louise  was  absorbed,  waiting,  intent  upon  the 
unfolding  court  routine  which  contained  the  drama 
that  she  now  charged  with  such  significance. 

The  court  routine  ground  on.  The  first  week  of 
the  session  passed  —  given  over  to  preliminary 
matters  and  the  trial  of  one  criminal  case.  Accord 
ing  to  Winthrop's  calendar  the  case  against  Allan 
Thomas  would  be  reached  about  Thursday  of  the 
second  week.  Endicott  had  turned  up  a  promising 
clew  to  Dolton's  whereabouts.  They  hoped  to 
have  the  ex-gauger  in  the  toils  by  the  time  the  case 
came  on  for  trial.  Meanwhile  the  prosecuting 
attorney  was  busy  day  and  evening  with  his  grist. 
He  even  worked  nearly  all  day  Sunday. 

223 


224  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

On  Monday  afternoon  Frederick  Hasbrook,  A.  B. 
Codley,  and  Wesley  Wogan  sat  in  the  inner  room 
of  the  latter's  dingy  office,  Codley  and  Hasbrook 
side  by  side  at  the  battered  table,  Wogan  facing 
them.  A  type-written  legal  document  —  a  bill  in 
equity  —  lay  on  the  table.  Wogan  held  in  his  left 
hand  a  thin  packet  of  letters  in  an  old  envelope, 
bound  with  a  faded  red  ribbon.  The  table  drawer 
in  front  of  him  was  open  a  little.  His  right  hand 
still  rested  on  the  edge  of  it,  an  inch  away  from  the 
loaded  revolver  that  lay  within  it. 

Hasbrook  was  looking  at  the  safe  in  the  corner  of 
the  room;  but  he  was  not  aware  of  it.  His  eyes 
actually  saw  nothing.  The  pigments  had  washed 
out  of  his  high-colored  face,  leaving  it  a  mottled, 
unhealthy  tallow.  He  mechanically  wetted  his  lips 
with  the  tip  of  his  tongue,  and  they  saw  his  breast 
heave  as  he  took  in  a  long,  slow,  sighing  breath 
without  knowing  it. 

Old  Alphabet  had  chosen  his  position  at  Fred 
erick's  right  hand  for  its  strategetical  advantage. 
While  grappling  with  him  on  his  right  side,  in  case 
of  need,  his  own  right  arm  would  be  free  to  ply  the 
slung-shot  in  his  pocket.  However,  no  such  dis 
agreeable  necessity  had  arisen.  Frederick  had  not 
attempted  to  seize  the  letter  when  it  was  laid  on  the 
table  that  he  might  recognize  the  hand-writing. 
Now,  although  the  instant  of  the  crisis  had  actually 
passed,  Codley  still  half  crouched  in  his  chair,  lean 
ing  slightly  toward  Hasbrook,  with  narrowed,  sin 
ister  eyes  bent  upon  his  face. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  225 

With  a  little  inner  breath  of  relief  —  realizing  that 
the  crisis  had  passed  —  Old  Alphabet  thought  in 
his  mind,  with  a  kind  of  slow  mental  chuckle  and 
grin :  — 

"He's  done  for!  The  knife  went  clean  through 
his  heart!" 

Hasbrook  felt  the  narrowed,  peering  eyes,  and 
looked  around  at  the  door  in  order  to  avert  his  face 
from  Old  Alphabet.  He  wetted  his  lips  again  — 
more  consciously  and  furtively  this  time.  He  was 
dumbly  exerting  all  his  will  to  rouse  his  stunned 
mind;  to  think  clearly. 

"What  do  you  propose,  Codley?"  he  said,  and  his 
own  articulation  sounded  strange  in  his  ears. 

"Nothing  unreasonable,  Hasbrook,"  Codley  re 
plied.  He  began  to  realize  his  triumph;  his  mind 
began  secretly  to  exult.  "I  want  my  Nogiac  friends 
let  alone  for  a  while.  My  idea  is  that  you  leave  for 
Europe  to-morrow,  and  stay  there  three  months. 
When  the  trust  is  once  formed  and  floated,  you  can 
come  back  and  do  what  you  please.  Three  months 
is  all  the  time  we  ask." 

"Where  is  my  security?"  Frederick  asked,  in 
tones  dull  but  steady.  He  was  trying  with  all  his 
might  to  see  all  around  it,  to  bring  the  full  power 
of  his  mind  to  bear  upon  it. 

"I  needn't  point  out  to  you,"  said  Codley,  low, 
but  rather  lightly,  "that  those  letters  are  the  hoof 
and  hair  and  hide  of  my  case." 

"It's  the  letters  I  want,"  Frederick  replied.     He 


226  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

was  silent  a  moment.  "Hand  them  over  to  me,  and 
declare  you  have  no  others  like  them,  and  Til  give 
my  word  of  honor  to  leave  for  Europe  to-morrow 
and  not  return  within  three  months." 

Mr.  Codley  smiled  slightly.  It  was  working 
even  better  than  he  expected.  He  thought,  "He's 
anxious!  Very  anxious!" 

"Rather  one-sided,  isn't  it,  Frederick?"  he  replied 
good-naturedly.  "Go  and  stay  three  months  and 
I'll  give  you  my  word  to  burn  the  letters." 

Hasbrook  deemed  it  not  worth  while  to  answer, 
so,  after  a  moment's  pause,  Codley  added,  "The 
fair  plan  is  to  put  them  in  somebody's  hands  —  to 
be  turned  back  to  me  if  you  reappear ;  to  be  given 
to  you  if  you  don't."  Again  he  paused  a  moment. 
"I  suggest  Julius  Brown." 

"Will  you  put  them  in  my  father's  hands  with  that 
stipulation?"  Hasbrook  asked.  "Or  David  Dono 
van's?"  he  added,  an  instant  later. 

Mr.  Codley  appeared  to  reflect  a  full  minute,  dur 
ing  which  the  room  was  absolutely  still.  "We  find 
ourselves  in  a  difficult  position,"  he  said  calmly. 
"Gentlemen  who  would  be  satisfactory  to  me,  as 
trustees  of  the  letters,  probably  wouldn't  be  to 
you  —  and  vice  versa.  You  know  what's  at  stake 
all  around  as  well  as  I  do  —  a  great  deal  of  money 
on  my  side  ;  something  else  on  your  side.  Putting 
aside  all  little  personal  sentiments  which  may  ani 
mate  you  and  me,  Hasbrook,  we  ought  to  try  to 
find  a  way  to  avoid  a  row  that  can't  help  being  very 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  227 

disagreeable  to  both  sides.  Now,  see  if  you  can 
propose  a  reasonable  plan." 

Again  Hasbrook  exerted  himself,  whipped  up  his 
mind.  After  a  moment  Codley  spoke  abruptly,  as 
though  he,  too,  had  been  thinking. 

"I'll  meet  you  halfway,  Hasbrook.  After  all, 
the  principal  thing  with  me  must  be  to  satisfy  my 
clients.  I'll  take  your  word  of  honor  that  you'll 
leave  for  Europe  to-morrow  and  not  return  within 
three  months.  Then  we'll  rent  a  safe-deposit 
box  for  three  months.  We'll  seal  these  letters  in  a 
new  envelope  and  lock  them  in  the  box  and  go  throw 
the  key  into  the  lake.  And  we'll  tell  Titus  that  at 
the  end  of  three  months  he's  to  drill  open  the  box 
and  carry  the  envelope  to  the  furnace  in  the  presence 
of  both  of  us  and  chuck  it  into  the  fire.  Pulling 
off  the  trust  on  time  means  some  millions  of  dollars 
to  my  clients,  and  I  won't  have  them  say  that  I 
neglected  to  do  anything  within  my  power  to  get  it 
pulled  off  —  putting  aside,  as  I  said  before,  all  little 
personal  sentiments  that  may  animate  you  and  me." 

Hasbrook  turned  in  his  chair  and  looked  Codley 
in  the  face.  "Let's  do  it  now,  this  afternoon," 
he  said  quickly.  He  was  still  unhealthily  pallid. 
His  eyes  were  leaden,  with  a  strange  look  in  them. 

Codley  thrust  forward  his  chin  a  little ;  narrowed 
his  own  eyes  to  that  intent,  rather  sinister  squint. 
So,  for  a  moment,  they  confronted  each  other. 

"Then  you  must  leave  town  this  afternoon,  too," 
said  Codley,  suspiciously. 


228  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

"I'll  take  the  five-twenty  for  New  York,"  said 
Hasbrook.  "I  can  get  a  slow  boat  Wednesday 
morning." 

"And  not  return  within  three  months/'  said 
Codley. 

"And  not  return  within  three  months,"  Hasbrook 
repeated. 

Still  eying  him  narrowly,  Codley  waited  an  in 
stant,  and  said,  under  his  breath,  "On  your  word 
of  honor,  Frederick." 

"On  my  word  of  honor,"  Frederick  repeated. 

After  a  further  moment  of  silent,  intent  question 
ing  Codley  nodded.  "Go  ahead,"  he  said.  He 
turned  to  Wogan.  "Get  a  stout  envelope,  and 
sealing-wax." 

Hasbrook  examined  the  envelope  when  Wogan 
produced  it  —  a  plain,  stout  manila  one.  He  glanced 
at  the  stick  of  green  wax ;  took  up  the  seal  and  scruti 
nized  the  device.  It  was  the  ordinary  seal  of  an 
express  company.  Then  he  took  up  the  type 
written  bill ;  turned  to  that  part  of  it  in  which  copies 
of  the  letters  were  set  forth,  and  checked  them  off 
one  by  one  as  Wogan  spread  the  original  documents 
on  his  side  of  the  table,  near  enough  so  that  Freder 
ick  could  identify  them,  yet  far  enough  away  so 
that  he  could  not  reach  them  without  springing 
from  his  chair  —  while  Old  Alphabet,  his  right  hand 
on  the  slung-shot  in  his  pocket,  resumed  his  strate- 
getical  position. 

With  watchful  eyes  Hasbrook  saw  Wogan  return 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  229 

the  letters  to  their  original  cover,  put  that  in  the 
manila  envelope,  and  seal  it  with  wax.  Wogan  laid 
the  sealed  envelope  on  his  side  of  the  table,  so  that 
it  would  not  be  out  of  Frederick's  sight.  And 
Frederick  never  for  a  moment  took  his  eyes  from  it. 
When  they  were  ready  to  leave  the  office,  Wogan 
took  the  envelope  in  his  right  hand.  Hasbrook 
took  Wogan's  right  arm,  walking  beside  him  in  an 
attitude  that  a  casual  spectator  might  have  taken 
for  affectionate  familiarity.  Down  the  dirty  stairs, 
along  the  street,  through  the  office  of  the  First 
National  Bank,  downstairs  again  into  the  safe-de 
posit  vault,  Frederick  kept  his  hand  within  Wogan's 
crooked  right  arm,  and  his  eyes  steadily  upon  the 
oblong  brown  package  in  the  lawyer's  right  hand. 
Old  Alphabet  trudged  behind  them,  his  sense  of 
humor  so  far  returning  that  he  twice  grinned  openly. 

In  the  parlor  of  the  safe-deposit  vaults  they  took 
seats  at  a  table,  upon  which  Wogan  laid  the  enve 
lope,  within  Frederick's  sight,  but  out  of  his  reach. 
Codley  told  the  attendant  to  ask  Mr.  Titus  to  step 
down.  The  urbane  banker  soon  appeared,  and  took 
a  seat  with  them. 

"We  want  to  rent  a  safe-deposit  box  for  three 
months,  Johnny,"  Codley  explained  calmly.  "We 
want  you  to  come  along  and  see  us  put  this  package 
in  it."  He  nodded  to  the  envelope.  "I  rather  guess 
the  key  to  that  box  will  be  lost,  and  the  rent  won't  be 
paid  after  the  three  months  are  up.  So,  naturally, 
you'll  be  under  the  necessity  of  drilling  the  box 


230  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

open.  Hasbrook  and  I  will  be  on  hand  when  you 
do  it,  and  you'll  take  our  package  and  chuck  it  into 
the  fire.  Is  that  correct,  Frederick?"  he  asked 
lightly. 

"Correct,"  said  Frederick. 

Codley  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket.  "What's  the 
rent  of  a  box  for  three  months,  Johnny  ?"  he  in 
quired  jocularly. 

"A  dollar  and  a  half,  I  believe,"  the  banker  re 
plied,  smiling  good-naturedly.  He  told  the  attend 
ant  to  summon  the  clerk  in  charge  of  the  vaults. 
The  clerk  confirmed  his  idea  that  the  rent  of  a  small 
box  for  three  months  was  a  dollar  and  a  half. 

Codley  handed  him  the  silver  coins,  with  a  humor 
ous  look.  "You  can  put  it,"  he  said  —  and  con 
sidered  an  instant  —  "in  the  name  of  George 
Washington  Jones." 

"Yes,  sir.  George  Washington  Jones,"  said  the 
clerk,  anxious  to  appreciate  a  joke  in  that  company. 
He  returned  in  a  moment  with  a  slip  of  paper  — 
being  the  receipt  for  rent  of  the  box.  Codley 
glanced  at  it  and  tossed  it  carelessly  to  Hasbrook. 
Frederick  took  it,  but  did  not  lift  his  eyes  from  the 
envelope. 

They  passed  through  the  massive  steel  door  to  the 
vaults  proper,  and  stood  close  together  while  Wogan, 
in  plain  view  of  all,  put  the  sealed  envelope  in  the 
tin  box,  slid  that  home,  shut  the  stout  little  steel 
door  upon  it  and  turned  the  key  that  locked  it  in. 
Frederick  put  his  hand  to  the  little  door  to  make 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  231 

doubly  sure  that  it  was  firmly  locked.  Wogan  took 
the  key  to  the  box  conspicuously  between  the  thumb 
and  forefinger  of  his  right  hand,  just  as  he  had  pre 
viously  held  the  envelope.  Frederick  took  his  arm 
again.  They  walked  out,  and  down  the  street  that 
led  to  the  steamboat  dock,  stopping  at  the  edge  of 
the  dock. 

"Well,  here  she  is,"  said  Wogan,  the  key  still 
conspicuously  between  thumb  and  finger.  "Will 
you  throw  it  or  shall  I?" 

Frederick  took  the  key,  and  hurled  it  far  into  the 
blue  water.  A  little  splash  showed  where  it  fell. 
The  thing  was  done. 

Codley  looked  at  his  watch.  "Plenty  of  time  to 
get  your  train,"  he  said.  "We  may  as  well  sit  down 
and  send  for  a  carriage." 

The  dock  was  nearly  deserted  at  that  time.  Sev 
eral  workmen,  however,  and  some  boys,  observed  the 
throwing  of  the  key  with  curiosity.  Codley  beckoned 
one  of  the  latter ;  sent  him  up  the  street  to  fetch  a 
carriage.  The  three  men  sat  down  in  the  shade  of  a 
warehouse,  on  a  pile  of  new  boards.  It  was  a  fine 
day,  quite  cool  down  there  by  the  water.  The  broad 
bosom  of  the  lake  twinkled  with  little  waves  under 
the  sun.  Two  yachts  spread  white  wings  a  mile  out. 
Mr.  Codley  watched  them  with  good-natured  interest. 

They  entered  the  carriage  when  it  came,  were 
driven  to  the  railroad  station,  stayed  together  while 
Frederick  bought  his  ticket  to  New  York ;  sat  down 
on  the  same  bench  in  the  waiting-room  until  the 


232  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

train  came.  Codley  and  Wogan  accompanied  Fred 
erick  to  the  gate  through  which  passengers  passed. 
They  stood  there  and  saw  him  climb  aboard,  waited 
until  the  train  pulled  out,  then  walked  leisurely  to 
the  street.  Since  they  left  the  steamboat  wharf,  an 
hour  before,  not  a  word  had  been  exchanged.  Leav 
ing  the  station  Codley  smiled  down  at  his  shorter 
companion. 

"A  bright  boy,  Freddy  is,"  he  observed;    "but 
he's  got  a  whole  lot  to  learn  —  a  whole  lot  to  learn." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

TUESDAY  was  a  busy  day  for  the  prosecuting  at 
torney  ;  but  even  in  the  grind  of  his  court  work  his 
mind  recurred  now  and  then  to  People  versus  Thomas. 
Endicott  had  his  best  man,  Nesbit,  up  in  the  northern 
peninsula  on  a  clew  which  promised  to  lead  to  the 
rearrest  of  Dolton.  In  the  morning  they  had  a 
cipher  message  from  the  deputy,  which  gave  encour 
agement.  Before  dinner  another  wire  came.  En 
dicott  hurried  in  with  it  to  Winthrop,  hopefully ;  not 
suspecting  that  Old  Alphabet  had  manufactured  the 
clew. 

"Good!"  Winthrop  cried,  and  his  eyes  shone. 
"Bully!  Do  you  know,  Endicott  —  we're  going  to 
win  in  spite  of  all  their  money  and  chicane.  By 
George,  there's  still  a  God  in  Israel!"  He  laughed 
in  his  satisfaction.  "I  must  give  Fred  Hasbrook 
a  hint  of  this  !" 

He  took  up  the  telephone.  Endicott  heard  him 
ask  for  the  number ;  then  for  Fred  Hasbrook ;  and 
saw  his  face  turn  blank,  as  he  stammered  excitedly, 
"What?  How's  that?  Gone?  Gone  to  New 
York?"  His  mouth  opened  in  astonishment  as  he 
listened  to  the  voice  that  came  over  the  wire.  He 
returned  the  instrument  to  its  place,  and  looked 
around  in  a  dazed  way. 

233 


234  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

"  Why — that's  funny  !  Mighty  funny  !"  he  mum 
bled,  and  rubbed  his  chin  in  perplexity  and  gave 
a  little  laugh  of  sheer  bewilderment.  "  Hammond 
says  Fred's  gone  to  New  York  —  went  yesterday  — 
in  such  a  hurry  he  didn't  take  any  baggage.  Funny  ! 
Funny!"  he  repeated  helplessly. 

He  took  up  the  telephone  again,  impatiently,  and 
questioned  Hammond.  Yes,  the  secretary  said,  the 
Senator  was  in  New  York;  Fred  hadn't  sent  any 
word  about  forwarding  anything  to  him;  without 
doubt  it  was  a  flying  trip. 

"Of  course,  something  turned  up  of  a  sudden/' 
Winthrop  commented  as  he  turned  again  to  the 
sheriff.  "  Let's  see.  He  got  to  New  York  this 
afternoon.  Why,  yes !  He  will  leave  there  to 
morrow  forenoon  and  get  here  at  eleven-ten  Thursday 
morning.  A  tight  squeak,  by  George,  when  the  case 
is  set  for  ten  o'clock.  But  that's  it,  of  course. 
He  knew  he'd  be  back  in  time.  I'll  get  a  wire  from 
him  in  the  morning." 

On  the  morrow  no  message  came  to  Winthrop ; 
but  in  the  afternoon  Hammond  telephoned  him  that 
he  had  called  up  the  Holland  House,  where  the  Has- 
brooks  usually  stayed  when  in  New  York,  and 
learned  that  Mr.  Hasbrook  had  left  for  the  West. 
Thus  Winthrop  reassured  himself.  Frederick  would 
be  on  hand  at  eleven-ten  —  say  eleven-twenty  at  the 
Court  House.  The  case  was  set  for  ten  o'clock, 
but  it  would  take  at  least  an  hour  to  get  a  jury.  He 
could  make  the  proceedings  drag. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  235 

Thursday,  to  leave  nothing  undone,  Winthrop 
stationed  Judson  with  a  carriage  to  meet  the  eleven- 
ten  train  from  the  East.  He  was  dilatory  in  the 
court  work  that  morning.  It  was  half-past  ten  before 
the  case  of  People  versus  Thomas  was  reached.  The 
defendant  was  on  hand,  with  the  Nogiac  lawyer  who 
appeared  for  him.  Mr.  Codley  sat  within  the  bar 
of  the  court,  but  took  no  part.  The  work  of  exam 
ining  venire-men  began.  Here  Winthrop  expected 
the  usual  forensic  fencing.  To  his  surprise  Thomas's 
lawyer  promptly  accepted  every  talesman  whom 
he  offered,  without  a  question.  He  thought,  "So 
then,  they  don't  expect  the  case  to  come  to  trial  at 
all ;  they  have  some  trick  to  play." 

David  Donovan  had  come  in,  a  little  after  ten, 
and  taken  a  seat  inside  the  railing  which  divided 
the  bar  from  the  public.  Codley  stepped  over 
gravely  and  shook  hands  with  him. 

The  last  three  venire-men  whom  Winthrop  passed 
and  offered  to  the  defence  were  instantly  accepted. 
The  jury  was  complete.  It  was  half-past  eleven. 
Winthrop  had  barely  noticed  the  time  when  he  saw 
Judson  hurrying  in.  The  train  had  arrived.  It 
brought  Senator  Hasbrook,  but  not  Frederick. 
The  Senator  had  said  that  his  son  did  not  come  with 
him. 

Winthrop  turned  to  the  Court  and  asked  a  con 
tinuance.  An  important  witness  whom  he  had  surely 
expected  had  been  delayed ;  could  not  be  on  hand 
that  day.  He  was  fairly  entitled  to  the  continuance ; 


236  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

but  Thomas's  lawyer  promptly  arose  to  oppose  it. 
The  case  had  been  duly  set ;  the  defendant  was  on 
hand,  demanding  trial.  The  State  had  charged  him 
with  a  serious  crime ;  it  was  not  right  that  he  be  kept 
under  the  cloud  of  an  indictment  when  he  was  ready 
to  stand  trial ;  let  the  prosecuting  attorney  go  ahead 
with  the  case,  or  dismiss  it. 

The  incident  of  Dolton's  release  on  bail  came 
sharply  to  Winthrop's  mind.  He  felt  the  Court 
was  against  him  —  not  that  Showman  would  do 
anything  gross ;  anything  overt.  He  was  too 
cautious  for  that.  But  custom  gave  him  auto 
cratic  power.  It  was  easy  for  him  to  trip  the  heels 
of  the  prosecution  without  seeming  to  unbend  from 
the  judicial  attitude.  Winthrop  was  alive  to  the 
danger.  An  arbitrary  word  from  the  bench  now 
would  undo  him.  He  pleaded  with  all  his  power; 
with  passion  so  genuine  that  it  rang  in  his  voice 
and  burned  in  his  eyes.  The  State  was  entitled 
to  the  continuance.  It  could  not  harm  an  innocent 
man. 

Showman  wavered.  He  knew  that  Mr.  Codley 
was  trying  to  catch  his  eye ;  but  he  looked  the  other 
way.  He  would  like  well  enough  to  trip  up  this 
bull-headed  prosecutor,  who  had  lectured  him  in  his 
own  house  —  the  lecture  had  caused  him  a  good 
many  uneasy  thoughts.  Yet  to  deny  the  continuance 
might  look  rather  suspicious.  Winthrop's  impas 
sioned  plea  was  evidently  affecting  the  crowd. 

So  he  granted  Winthrop's  motion;    setting  the 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  237 

case  for  nine  o'clock  sharp  the  following  Monday 
morning;  at  the  same  time  taking  pay  for  his  own 
irritated  nerves  by  giving  the  prosecutor  a  sharp 
lecture  concerning  his  duty  to  be  prepared  for  trial 
when  his  cases  were  called,  and  not  to  jeopard  the 
interests  of  the  State  by  delays,  at  the  same  time 
working  an  injustice  upon  defendants  who  were 
prepared  to  be  tried.  He  must  not  expect  any 
further  indulgence  of  the  Court  in  that  regard. 

Winthrop  took  the  rebuke  meekly  and  wiped  the 
sweat  from  his  brow,  relieved  that,  at  any  rate,  this 
danger  was  passed. 

Mr.  Codley  went  out  in  ill-humor.  To  his  brother 
lawyer  from  Nogiac  he  called  the  judge  a  rabbit- 
livered  lobster.  He  had  to  see  again  that  Barstow 
kept  the  case  out  of  the  Times  which  was  not  so  easy 
a  task  as  it  had  been  the  first  time,  for  the  editor  had 
some  scruples  about  complying  so  far  to  the  dictates 
of  his  money  interests.  Old  Alphabet  had  counted 
upon  seeing  the  end  of  the  vexatious  Thomas  case 
that  forenoon.  In  his  vexation  it  seemed  to  him 
that  a  still  sharper  stroke  was  now  expedient. 

Winthrop,  meanwhile,  took  up  the  coil  of  his  other 
cases.  It  was  half-past  five  when  Court  adjourned. 
He  hurried  out,  and  boarded  a  car  for  the  Hasbrook 
place. 

There  was  no  need  to  inquire  for  the  Senator. 
From  the  road  Winthrop  saw  his  tall,  round-shoul 
dered  old  figure  pacing  under  the  maple  trees  at  the 
further  side  of  the  lawn,  his  hands  behind  his  back. 


238  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

The  visitor's  hurried  stride  covered  four  feet  to  the 
old  man's  loitering  one.  Midway  of  the  leafy  avenue 
the  Senator  glanced  around,  apprised  by  the  snap 
ping  of  a  twig,  and  Winthrop  instinctively  moder 
ated  his  pace,  for  he  seemed  to  see  a  mask  of  age 
before  him.  It  was  not  exactly  that  Hasbrook 
looked  haggard ;  but  he  had  lost  color  and  the  lines 
of  his  face  were  more  deeply  bitten  in.  His  old 
blue  eyes  were  dull.  In  the  pose  of  his  lean  form,  and 
in  the  way  he  held  his  drooping  head  as  he  looked 
back,  there  was  still  an  inextinguishable  pride,  as  of 
a  blanched  old  eagle. 

" Senator,  I  came  to  ask  about  Fred,"  said  Win 
throp,  with  an  odd  touch  of  embarrassment,  caused 
by  the  mysterious  check  to  his  impatience;  and  as 
he  stepped  up  beside  the  other  he  felt  vaguely  un 
comfortable  as  though  he  were  doing  something 
impudent.  "He  didn't  appear  at  the  trial  to-day." 

"My  son  sailed  for  Europe  Wednesday,"  said  the 
Senator.  "He  will  not  return  soon." 

Winthrop  stared  at  him  a  moment,  and  his  dry 
lips  mumbled  the  words,  "My  God!"  He  tried  to 
pull  himself  together.  "Why,  you  know  I  was  de 
pending  upon  him,  Senator.  You  know  how  the 
arson  case  stands." 

"He  will  not  testify  in  that  case,"  said  the  Sena 
tor.  "That  is  ended."  The  old  man  spoke  de 
liberately,  and  still  with  that  inextinguishable  pride. 

Suddenly  Winthrop  disbelieved  his  senses.  It 
was  simply  impossible  that  the  Senator  should  be 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  239 

standing  there  and  telling  him  this.  His  face  puck 
ered.  "But  Fred  couldn't  have  sold  out,"  he  urged, 
as  though  they  must  argue  it. 

The  Senator  waited  a  moment.  "Fred  sold  out 
long  ago,  Winthrop  —  long,  long  ago,"  he  said,  with 
kindness  for  the  dazed  man  before  him.  "He  is 
on  the  sea.  He  will  not  testify.  That  is  ended." 

The  Senator  looked  at  him  with  dull  yet  firm  eyes 
a  moment  more.  "You  must  accept  the  fact,"  he 
added,  still  with  kindness.  Then  he  turned  slowly 
and  paced  away.  He  had  not  moved  his  hands. 
They  were  still  clasped  behind  his  back. 

Winthrop  wished  to  cry  out ;  to  run  after  him. 
But  the  bowed  old  figure  forbade  it ;  and  it  had  a 
dignity  before  which  he  was  oddly  abashed.  The 
wisdom  of  long  life  seemed  to  enfold  the  old  man. 
The  younger  one  obscurely  felt  a  great  mystery; 
something  cloaked,  sombre,  out  of  the  far,  tragic 
reaches  of  experience  that  was  all  unknown  ground 
to  him.  He  turned  away,  in  a  helpless  maze.  He 
stopped  abruptly,  to  try  again,  to  return  to  the 
baffling  assault,  and  looked  back  at  the  lean  pacing 
form.  Again,  inscrutably,  he  felt  something  that 
outreached  his  own  human  knowledge;  something 
before  which  his  will  was  impotent.  He  turned 
again  and  walked  mechanically  away,  his  eyes  on 
the  ground.  He  scarcely  knew  where  or  how  he 
took  the  street-car. 

He  was  like  a  man  suddenly  buried  in  a  wreck 
with  only  a  dumb,  instinctive  will  to  dig  himself  out. 


240  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

It  was  instinct  more  than  a  reasoned  purpose  which 
made  him  leave  the  car  at  the  cross  street  that  led 
to  the  old  Holmes  place. 

He  found  David  and  Louise  ready  to  go  in  to 
dinner.  He  declined  the  invitation  to  eat  with  them 
quite  mechanically.  He  could  not,  just  then,  give 
his  attention  even  to  eating. 

"  Frederick  Hasbrook  has  sold  out  and  sailed  for 
Europe,"  he  said,  as  he  dropped  hi  a  chair. 

"Oh,  no!"  It  was  Louise's  voice,  incredulous 
and  stricken,  that  broke  the  silence. 

"He  has  sold  out.  He  has  gone  to  Europe.  He 
will  not  testify.  The  Senator  himself  just  told  me 
so,"  Winthrop  asserted  dully. 

"Oh,  Winthrop!  I  can't  believe  it!"  Louise 
cried.  "I  can't!"  She  turned  to  her  husband, 
her  brow  contracted  with  pain.  "Can  you,  Davy?" 
she  appealed. 

"It's  so,  Loie,"  David  replied  quietly. 

They  understood  then  that  he  had  known  it  be 
fore,  and  they  sat  half  breathless  with  eyes  fixed 
upon  his  face.  Louise's  clasped  hands  fell  in  her 
lap.  Her  head  was  erect,  and  her  eyes,  fixed  on 
her  husband's  face,  were  wounded  through  and 
through.  He  knew ! 

"David,  how  could  they  have  bought  Frederick? 
How  could  they  pay  him?  What  did  they  do  to 
him?" 

"I've  no  idea  what  or  how  they  paid  him,  Lou," 
he  replied.  "They  have  many  kinds  of  currency." 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  241 

"How  did  you  know,  David?  Who  told  you?" 
As  before  she  spoke  low;  nevertheless  it  was  a 
strong  demand.  Frederick's  fall  was  something 
monstrous  and  intolerable  to  her.  In  it,  like  her 
brother,  she  felt  the  stir  and  drag  of  malignant,  hate 
ful  powers  which  she  abhorred  with  all  the  force  of 
her  mind.  Yet  David,  in  a  sort,  was  in  their  confi 
dence  ;  knew  what  they  were  doing ;  spoke  of  them 
with  quiet,  matter-of-fact  tones. 

"Titus  told  me,"  David  replied  promptly;  but 
in  the  same  tones.  "He  sent  for  me  this  afternoon. 
As  I've  said  before,  the  prosecution  of  Thomas  and 
Frederick's  campaign  against  the  distillers  threatened 
to  interfere  with  a  very  profitable  business  deal. 
Titus  and  the  others  who  are  interested  in  the  deal 
don't  relish  the  interference.  They  had  supposed 
that  with  Dolton  and  Dennis  and  Fred  out  of  the 
way  the  case  against  Thomas  would  fall  to  pieces. 
Winthrop's  obstinacy  in  pushing  it  when  he  has  only 
one  witness  left,  whose  testimony  is  of  doubtful 
value,  provokes  them.  I  suppose  you  know,  if 
they've  used  dirty  means,  they're  all  the  more  exas 
perated  because  the  means  fail.  That  would  be 
quite  natural.  It  isn't  only  the  distillers,  but  Titus 
and  Epperson  and  others  like  them,  who  wouldn't 
burn  anybody  out  themselves ;  but  don't  wish  to  see 
a  big  business  deal  hurt.  It's  a  pretty  formidable 
opposition,  Winthrop.  In  one  way  or  another,  it 
has  already  taken  Dolton  and  Dennis  and  Fred  out 
of  your  hands." 


242  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

"Yes,"  said  the  prosecuting  attorney.  "They 
have  determined  that  the  case  shall  not  come  to 
trial;  that  the  people  shall  not  even  have  a  day  in 
their  own  court.  I  tell  you,  David,  if  I  had  only  a 
scrap  of  paper,  only  a  babbling  child  for  a  witness,  I 
should  bring  the  case  to  trial!" 

"I  supposed  so,"  David  answered,  rather  dryly. 

Winthrop's  round  eyes  turned  to  his  sister. 
"There's  even  another  reason  now  —  the  wreck  of 
Fred  Hasbrook's  honor.  I  owe  them  one  for  that !" 

Louise's  lip  trembled.  "Frederick,"  she  said  — 
"whom  you,  David,  speak  of  with  the  fellow  Dolton 
and  the  fellow  O'Neill !  You  know  in  your  heart 
how  different  he  was.  He  was  noble.  How  could 
he  have  done  it  ?  " 

"Of  course  the  poor  fellow  hated  the  bargain," 
David  speculated  sympathetically. 

"Oh,  bargain,  Davy!  Bargain!"  she  cried  out. 
"What  right  had  he  to  bargain!  It  isn't  himself 
alone.  Others  loved  him  and  thought  him  noble. 
Could  I  or  Kittie  step  off  into  the  gutter  alone? 
We'd  drag  with  us  the  love  of  you  and  Winthrop 
and  others  who  loved  us.  What  right  had  Fred 
erick  to  bargain  ?  Was  his  honor,  that  many  others 
loved,  an  old  coat  that  he  could  swap  or  give  away?" 

"Even  that,  Loie,"  David  answered.  "You  see 
he  has  sold  it,  although  he  loved  it  and  loved  the 
others  that  loved  it.  I've  no  idea  what  the  bargain 
was;  but  I  know  he  didn't  like  it." 

This  iteration  struck  against  her  aroused,  accu- 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  243 

mulated  passion.  It  was  just  this  genial  laxity, 
this  good-natured  tolerance  that  she  could  not  bear 
now. 

"You  don't  believe  it!"  she  cried.  "You  don't 
believe  that  such  men  may  bargain  for  their  honor ! 
I  loved  him  with  all  my  heart,  but  I  could  not  take 
his  hand  now.  It  would  be  a  lie.  I  simply  cannot 
understand  loving  a  man  without  honor,  David. 
It's  exactly  that  —  seeing  him  degraded  and  forever 
incapable  of  being  loved  —  that  makes  it  so  terrible 
to  me  !  Oh,  your  Tituses  and  O'Neills  !  What  they 
do!" 

David  looked  up  at  her  from  under  his  eyebrows  — 
yes,  with  the  faint  hint  of  a  smile.  "I  don't  claim 
any  ownership  of  Titus,  Lou,"  he  said  lightly.  A 
silence,  embarrassed,  painful  to  both,  followed.  Win- 
throp  broke  it :  — 

"The  Thomas  case  has  been  set  for  nine  o'clock 
sharp,  David,"  he  said  quietly.  "The  Court's 
against  me  and  will  give  me  no  more  favors.  So  I 
want  you  to  be  on  hand  promptly." 

It  was  growing  dark  in  the  room  so  that  they 
could  no  longer  see  one  another's  faces  clearly.  "I 
think  I  can  win  the  case,"  said  the  prosecuting  at 
torney.  "Truth  is  a  bigger  factor  on  one's  side  than 
Codley  gives  it  credit  for  being.  You  know  the 
truth  is  on  my  side.  It  will  rest  with  you,  I  think, 
whether  the  jury  is  made  to  feel  it.  You  can  obey 
the  subpoena  and  still  defeat  me  by  the  way  you  tell 
the  story.  My  subpoena  can't  command  more  than 


244  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

lip  truth.  But  I  want  you  to  be  my  very  witness, 
David ;  the  State's  very  witness ;  to  deliver  the  very 
truth  to  that  jury ;  hold  it  up  to  them  like  a  banner. 
That's  what  I  came  to  ask  of  you.  As  I'm  a  living 
man  I  believe  it's  for  God's  sake." 

His  voice  ceased  in  the  darkening  room.  Louise 
felt  the  base  of  her  throat  contract. 

"I'm  not  that  kind  of  a  liar,  Winthrop,"  David's 
voice  answered  quietly.  "If  I  come  to  your  witness 
stand  Monday,  it  will  be  to  tell  the  very  truth  the 
best  I  know.  You  can  bank  on  that." 

Winthrop  arose.  "I  know  you  don't  agree  with 
me,"  he  said.  "But  I  know  your  courage,  too, 
David.  It's  the  rock  I  lean  on  now.  Do  as  you 
have  said  and  I'll  be  your  debtor  as  long  as  I  live." 

When  he  was  gone,  they  did  not  at  once  move 
toward  the  belated  dinner,  nor  to  light  the  lamp. 
David  realized,  with  a  certain  distaste,  that  Louise 
had  more  to  say  to  him. 

"David  —  truly,  don't  you  know  what  they  did 
to  Frederick?"  she  asked,  low. 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea,"  he  replied,  and  stifled 
a  little  sigh.  "They  play  their  own  game.  Titus 
himself  didn't  know." 

"What  did  Titus  say  to  you?" 

"Why,  as  I  told  you,  he's  irritated  because  Win 
throp  is  going  ahead  after  the  bottom's  been  knocked 
out  of  his  case.  That  going  ahead  hurts  the  business 
deal.  Winthrop's  obstinacy  in  fighting  after  he's 
so  much  beaten,  exasperates  the  other  people.  Titus 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  245 

put  it  before  me  very  cogently  that  in  upholding 
Winthrop  I  was  merely  tilting  against  a  windmill. 
When  I  told  him  I  was  bound  to  go  ahead  and  tilt, 
he  lost  his  temper." 

"How  did  you  put  it  before  him,  David  —  the 
grounds  of  your  going  ahead?7'  she  asked  gravely. 

David  hesitated  a  moment.  "We  didn't  go  into 
that  at  all,  Loie,"  he  said.  "There  was  no  need." 
He  paused  an  instant,  then  gave  a  little  laugh,  with 
a  certain  light-hearted  relish  of  a  joke  in  it.  "The 
plain  fact  is  that  Titus  thinks  I'm  henpecked  into 
it.  He  believes  I'm  sticking  to  Winthrop  because 
I'm  tied  to  Winthrop's  sister's  apron-strings." 

His  little  laugh,  his  relish  of  the  joke,  so  cut  into 
her  heart  that  her  eyes  were  wet  in  the  dark.  She 
bit  back  the  reply  that  came  to  her  lips. 

"I'm  rather  expecting,"  he  added  soberly,  "to 
get  notice  from  the  bank  to  pay  up  my  loan  of  thirty- 
five  thousand  dollars  —  the  money  I  borrowed  to  buy 
Bryerly's  stock.  They've  got  all  my  other  stock, 
too,  as  collateral,  and  can  do  about  as  they  please 
with  me.  Moreover,  if  I  lose  Titus's  good-will,  I 
may  as  well  resign  from  the  street  railroad." 

"And  does  that  seem  important  to  you?"  she 
asked  quickly.  "Would  you  take  the  trouble  of 
changing  it?  Can  that  vex  you  with  Winthrop?" 

"So  far  as  Winthrop  is  concerned,"  he  replied, 
"my  opinion  is  that  he  has  already  lost  his  case.  I 
don't  believe  he  has  one  chance  in  a  hundred  of  win 
ning  it.  I  hope  I'm  not  irredeemably  sordid,  but  the 


246  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

fact  is  that  I  would  like  Winthrop  better  just  now 
if  he  would  consider  me  a  little.  I'm  not  so  consti 
tuted  that  I  can  see  another  man  toss  me  into  the 
scrap-heap  for  what  seems  to  me  a  quite  imprac 
ticable  ideal  and  feel  entirely  good-natured  toward 
him.  I'm  too  practical-minded,  Lou,  to  enjoy  being 
ruined  for  its  own  sake." 

"Oh,  ruined,  Davy  !  Ruined  !  Can  losing  money 
ruin  you  ?  "  Her  voice  pleaded,  passionately.  "Think 
of  Frederick!" 

"We  think  of  different  things,  Lou,"  he  answered, 
good-naturedly.  He  sprang  up,  stooped,  and  took  her 
hand.  "Let's  go  to  dinner,  honey."  He  lifted  her 
to  her  feet  and  would  have  tucked  her  hand,  gayly, 
under  his  arm,  to  lead  her  to  the  dining  room.  But 
she  resisted.  He  felt  her  tremble. 

"No!  —  no,  Davy!"  Her  low  voice,  also,  trem 
bled  a  little.  "Let  us  understand  each  other.  My 
husband,  I  want  you  to  know  just  what  this  means 
to  me  —  truth  and  right  and  honor :  whatever  is 
noble  and  beautiful."  She  flung  her  arm  around  his 
neck.  "Davy,  don't  even  traffic  with  those  men; 
don't  go  near  them  —  Titus,  Dennis  O'Neill  —  that 
crew  of  dirty  rogues  who  dragged  even  Frederick 
down.  Their  dirty  hands  are  reaching  out  for  you 
too,  dear.  You  must  understand  how  vital  this  is 
to  me.  Don't  traffic  with  them  any  more." 

As  her  soft  body  clung  to  him  in  the  dark  and  her 
sweet,  agitated  voice  sounded  in  his  ear,  it  came  to 
him  that  even  she,  for  all  her  high  mind  and  strong 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  247 

spirit,  must  play  the  old  legendary  part  of  woman 
and  bind  him  with  her  beauty. 

"I  know  your  courage,  too,  Davy,"  she  whispered. 
"  You  are  my  soldier !  How  could  I  bear  to  see  you 
overthrown?" 

He  slipped  an  arm  around  her  and  brushed  his 
cheek  against  her  hair.  "You've  told  the  whole 
story,  Loie !  You've  stated  the  whole  case !  So 
far  as  Winthrop  is  concerned,  we  simply  think  differ 
ently.  I  can't  at  all  see  the  tremendous  importance 
in  a  certain  arson  case  that  he  sees.  But  that  has 
nothing  to  do  with  it  now.  And  that's  exactly  why 
I'm  easy  and,  as  you  say,  light-hearted  about  it.  I'm 
your  soldier  now.  I  wear  your  colors.  It's  all 
bound  up,  my  dear,  in  what  was  really  promised 
when  you  gave  yourself  to  me.  You  send  me  to  the 
post.  Do  you  imagine  I'm  down  in  the  mouth  about 
going?  Do  you  think  I'll  flinch?" 

Her  arm  tightened  about  his  neck;  her  heart 
swelled;  for  a  luscious  moment,  as  she  kissed  him, 
she  gloried  in  his  courage.  And  then  —  her  thought 
lessly  exultant  heart  was  constricted.  She  wished 
to  say,  "  This  isn't  the  right  way,  Davy  !  You  must 
do  it  for  its  own  sake,  and  not  merely  to  please  me  !" 
But  he  had  just  said  that  he  did  not  see  the  necessity 
of  doing  it  for  its  own  sake.  They  went  in  to  dinner. 

Along  in  the  night  she  sat  up  abruptly  in  bed. 
In  the  restless  coil  of  thought  it  had  come  to  her  more 
and  more  strongly  that  she  must  not  compel  him. 
Whether  he  did  right  or  wrong,  he  must  do  it  for  the 


248  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

sake  of  the  thing  itself;  on  Monday  he  must  be  a 
free  man  —  to  choose  according  to  his  own  feeling. 
The  motive  was  so  strong  that,  for  an  instant,  she 
meant  to  go  over  to  his  bed  and  waken  him. 

She  clasped  her  hands  and  sat  thinking  in  the 
dark.  She  could  hear  his  regular  breathing  as  he 
slept  soundly.  He  was  so  light-hearted !  His  con 
science  was  hardly  engaged  at  all !  If  she  should 
release  him  and  — 

Again  the  ghastly  wreck  of  Frederick's  honor 
came  before  her.  Oh,  no !  Whatever  else  hap 
pened  there  must  be  no  question,  not  the  slightest, 
of  David's  position  on  Monday.  Her  will  uprose; 
armed  itself  anew.  She  could  not  tolerate  the 
thought  of  Titus  and  Codley  and  that  slimy  gang 
dragging  him  down,  tripping  his  careless  feet.  And 
if  he  felt  now  that  she  was  compelling  him,  he  must 
feel  differently  when  the  stress  of  the  action  was 
past  and  he  saw  it  in  its  true  light. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

IN  speaking  to  Louise,  David  did  not  at  all  ex 
aggerate  the  feeling  of  resentment  which  Winthrop's 
obstinacy  in  pushing  the  Thomas  case  had  aroused  in 
the  minds  of  the  persons  who  were  chiefly  interested 
to  see  the  prosecution  dropped. 

Codley  was  astir  early  Friday  morning.  By  nine 
o'clock  Wogan  was  closeted  with  him  in  his  suite  at 
the  Sauganac  House.  An  elderly  colored  man,  of 
mild  and  respectable  appearance,  who  seemed  just 
to  have  arrived,  sat  waiting  in  the  adjoining  room. 

"  David  Donovan  isn't  a  bad  fellow  himself," 
Old  Alphabet  commented,  discursively.  "  Other 
things  being  equal,  I'd  rather  not  put  the  come- 
alongs  on  him.  But  a  man  is  entitled  to  pay  some 
thing  for  the  luxury  of  being  bossed  by  his  wife  — 
especially  if  his  wife's  the  kind  who  insists  upon 
everybody's  being  almighty  virtuous  except  herself." 

"It's  his  wife  who  stands  in  the  way,"  Wogan  ob 
served. 

"I  suppose  she  feels  bound  to  play  her  husband 
into  Brother  Winthrop's  hands,"  said  Codley.  He 
drummed  with  his  fingers  on  the  arm  of  the  chair, 
and  smiled  a  little  reflectively.  " There's  nothing 
like  keeping  an  eye  on  people,  Wesley.  You  never 

249 


250  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

can  tell  when  it's  going  to  fall  in  mighty  handy."  He 
drummed  again,  ruminating,  "What's  your  idea 
about  getting  hold  of  young  Penrose?" 

Wogan  brushed  his  hand  nervously  across  his 
cheek.  There  seemed,  far  back  in  his  restless,  dark 
eyes,  which  kept  flitting  to  and  from  Codley's  visage, 
a  kind  of  fear  —  something  like  the  dawning  of 
terror.  " Telephone  him,  I  suppose;  send  him  a 
note." 

"Why  not  send  the  girl  to  him,  now  that  she's 
here?"  Codley  suggested.  "We  might  as  well 
use  her  when  we  can.  Give  her  a  story ;  let  her  go 
to  him  and  bring  him  in." 

"Why,  yes!"  Wogan  replied,  with  a  touch  of 
eagerness.  "That'll  answer  first-rate." 

"I  guess  Penrose  can  persuade  the  virtuous  lady, 
—  unless  all  our  signs  are  misleading,"  Codley 
commented,  his  lip  drawing  in  a  small  and  sinister 
grin.  He  looked  at  his  watch.  "Well,  I'll  go  after 
friend  Titus." 

"You  don't  —  anticipate  any  trouble  there?" 
Wogan  asked,  as  one  in  whose  mind  an  anxious 
doubt  still  lingered. 

"No,"  said  Codley,  tersely.  "Johnny  knows 
which  side  of  his  bread  the  butter's  on."  He 
arose,  opened  the  intervening  door,  and  nodded  to 
the  colored  man,  who  sprang  up  with  obedient 
alacrity.  "I'll  come  back  here  and  telephone  you 
when  I've  got  the  stuff,"  he  said  as  he  went  out, 
followed  by  his  servitor. 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  251 

About  an  hour  later  Codley  appeared  at  the  First 
National  Bank  with  an  odd  following  —  the  negro, 
a  constable,  and  a  coatless  man  who  carried  a  small, 
well-worn  satchel  hugged  under  his  arm.  With 
merely  a  good-natured  nod  to  the  assistant  cashier, 
the  lawyer  led  his  troupe  through  the  banking  room 
and  downstairs  to  the  safe-deposit  vaults. 

"Tell  Mr.  Titus  I'd  like  to  see  him/'  he  said, 
calmly,  to  the  attendant,  and  indicated  a  leathern 
couch  on  which  his  followers  silently  disposed  them 
selves.  Old  Alphabet  himself  sat  down  at  the  table 
on  the  other  side  of  the  room,  and  took  up  one  of  the 
bank's  advertising  pamphlets  which  he  proceeded  to 
read  with  leisurely  interest.  He  was  on  the  last 
page  when  the  banker  appeared,  and  dropped  in  the 
chair  beside  him,  with  questioning  eyes,  like  a  busy 
man  interrupted  in  his  work. 

The  lawyer  took  an  envelope  from  his  pocket  s.nd 
laid  it  on  the  table.  It  was  of  manila,  sealed  with 
green  wax.  Mr.  Titus  swiftly  identified  it  as  the 
exact  duplicate  of  one  he  had  seen  before. 

"  There's  been  a  little  mistake  about  that  safe- 
deposit  box  I  rented  the  other  day,  Johnny,"  said 
Old  Alphabet,  calmly,  and  so  low  that  none  but  the 
banker  could  hear.  "  We've  got  to  correct  the 
error."  He  raised  his  voice  a  little,  and  with  a  nod 
indicated  the  respectable-looking  negro,  who  in 
stantly  stood  up,  like  a  manikin  whose  string  has 
been  pulled.  "My  coachman  and  esteemed  client, 
Mr.  George  Washington  Jones,  has  a  safe-deposit 


252  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

box  here.  The  key  has  been  lost,  as  duly  set  forth 
in  his  affidavit.  He  has  sworn  out  a  writ  of  replevin 
to  recover  the  contents  of  the  box.  This  officer  of 
the  law  is  here  to  serve  the  writ,  and  he  has  brought 
along  an  expert  gentleman  with  a  set  of  drills  to  open 
the  box." 

The  handsome  banker  turned  a  little  pale.  His 
dark  eyes  were  bent  upon  the  lawyer's  grizzled  face. 
He  was  an  honorable  man.  He  guarded  the  solvency 
of  his  bank  with  inflexible  vigilance.  Estates  and 
other  monetary  trusts  in  his  hands  were  safe.  His 
word  in  a  plain  business  deal  was  good  for  a  million. 
If  Hasbrook  had  put  a  packet  in  his  hands  person 
ally,  he  would  not  have  given  it  up.  On  the  whole, 
however,  he  took  the  world  as  he  found  it  and 
looked  at  the  larger,  more  tangible  aims.  For  a 
moment  he  was  at  loss  to  see  exactly  where  his  line 
of  conduct  should  run. 

Codley  spoke  lower  again.  "My  man  will  re-rent 
the  box  and  put  this  in  it."  He  tapped  the  dupli 
cate  envelope  with  his  finger.  "Of  course,  you'll 
have  a  new  door  put  on  it.  All  will  be  as  before.  I 
never  go  in  for  coarse  work."  Then  he  raised  his  voice 
so  the  others  could  hear.  "As  a  matter  of  course, 
we  can  enforce  the  execution  of  the  writ." 

That  was  the  point !  Everything  was  strictly 
legal  and  regular.  Mr.  Titus  at  once  resolved 
himself  into  the  impersonal,  corporate  landlord  — 
the  First  National  Safety  Deposit  Company. 

"Why,  of  course,  if  you've  got  a  writ,  we  can't  help 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  253 

ourselves, "  he  said.  "We  can't  stand  against  the 
law." 

" Certainly  not/'  said  Codley,  rather  more  loudly. 
"We  could  have  simply  forced  our  way  in,  by  virtue 
of  the  writ,  if  we'd  been  minded  to.  But  I  thought 
it  would  be  more  neighborly,  Johnny,  to  let  you 
know  what  we  were  doing."  He  beckoned  to  his 
men.  "Go  ahead,"  he  said. 

The  clerk  in  charge  of  the  vaults  had  gone  over 
by  the  attendant  who  stood  at  the  great  steel  door 
which  gave  ingress  to  the  vaults  proper.  When  the 
constable  and  the  expert  came  to  this  door,  the  clerk 
looked  questioningly  at  the  banker,  who  nodded. 
The  men  entered  the  vaults. 

Mr.  Titus  glanced  swiftly  and  significantly  at  the 
duplicate  envelope.  "You'll  see  everything's  left 
right,  Codley,"  he  said  under  his  breath. 

"Depend  upon  it,  Johnny,"  answered  the  lawyer. 

The  banker  hurried  back  to  his  office  upstairs, 
his  hands  cleanly  washed  of  the  affair.  Mr.  Codley 
stepped  inside  to  superintend  the  drilling  of  the 
box,  and  presently  returned  to  the  hotel  with  the 
letters  in  his  possession.  He  gave  George  Washing 
ton  Jones  a  largess  of  two  silver  dollars  and  sent 
him  back  to  his  humble  duties  in  Nogiac.  Sitting 
in  his  room,  cross-legged,  the  slim  package  held 
rather  caressingly  in  his  hand,  his  thoughts  ran 
like  this :  Freddy  has  a  lot  to  learn ;  he  would  have 
done  better  for  himself  if  he  had  been  able  to  keep 
his  mind  clear  and  concentrated  on  the  main  issue ; 


254  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

but  he  let  himself  go  to  thinking  of  the  expediency 
of  murdering  me  and  Wogan ;  I  saw  it  in  his  leaden 
eyes  when  he  looked  around  at  me ;  that  blood 
thirsty  notion  confused  him,  so  he  wasn't  a  good 
match  for  me,  and  I  outwitted  him ;  now,  I'll  teach 
the  dog  his  lesson  so  he'll  remember  it;  Johnny 
Titus  can  go  to  the  devil  —  if  it's  necessary.  . 

In  short,  Old  Alphabet  thought  more  highly  of 
the  letters  than  ever  before.  They  nourished  the 
malignancy  in  his  heart.  He  didn't  propose  to  give 
them  up  after  they  had  served  the  purpose  of  his 
clients. 

He  looked  down  at  the  faded  envelope,  tied  with 
its  old  red  ribbon ;  and  his  breast  warmed  with  the 
thought  that  he  held  there  in  his  hand  the  reputation 
of  a  woman  —  a  rather  splendid  article  of  its  kind, 
too.  He  was  a  kind  of  broker  in  reputations. 
Natural  inclination  and  long  practice  had  made  him 
a  species  of  social  buzzard.  The  scent  of  carrion 
titillated  his  nostrils.  He  interrupted  his  agree 
able  speculations  of  empire  to  telephone  Wogan. 

After  luncheon  he  repaired  to  Wogan's  office.  His 
penetrating  eyes  perceived  anew  that  Wesley  was 
nervous.  There  was  something  like  a  hovering 
of  fear  at  the  back  of  his  glance.  There  was  sin 
gularly  little  intercourse  of  a  personal  kind  between 
tool  and  master.  Wogan  would  not  have  thought 
of  telling  him  that  he  had,  that  morning,  received 
a  letter  from  his  wife,  in  answer  to  the  long  one  he 
had  written  her  —  the  first  in  nearly  a  year  —  when 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  255 

he  thought  he  had  something  tangible  to  offer  her. 
Mrs.  Wogan  treated  his  pleading  allegations  of 
reformed  habits  and  prosperous  prospects  with 
frank  and  even  contemptuous  unbelief.  She  didn't 
believe,  she  said,  that  he  would  ever  be  anything 
but  a  bum,  and  she  wasn't  coming  back  to  live  with 
him. 

Wesley's  nervousness  was  disagreeable  to  Codley. 
He  watched  him  furtively ;  even  took  a  sly  occasion 
to  sniff  at  his  breath,  which,  however,  bore  the  test 
satisfactorily.  He  gave  him  counsel  as  to  what  he 
should  say  in  the  pending  interview  and  withdrew 
to  the  inner  room,  the  door  of  which  he  left  slightly 
ajar,  with  a  chair  braced  against  it  so  that  it  could 
not  be  forced  open. 

He  had  to  wait  a  little  beyond  the  appointed  hour 
before  Fanny  Trescott  appeared  in  the  outer  room. 
He  listened  approvingly  while  Wogan  suavely 
explained  to  her  that,  in  the  matter  of  her  impor 
tant  law-suit,  a  juncture  had  arisen  which  made 
it  necessary  to  get  Ted  Penrose's  testimony.  She 
was  to  go  to  Penrose  and  send  him  to  Wogan's  office. 

"Why,  I  don't  want  to  go  to  him,  Mr.  Wogan," 
the  girl  replied,  troubled  and  rebellious. 

"  Friendly,  aren't  you?"  the  lawyer  inquired 
lightly. 

"He's  one  of  the  best  friends  I've  got  in  the  world," 
she  declared  stoutly,  coloring.  "Why  have  I  got 
to  go  to  him?"  Then  she  burst  out,  angrily, 
"Mr.  Wogan,  I  don't  believe  there  ever  were  any 


256  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

such  people  in  Montana  as  you  sent  me  up  there  to 
find.  What  did  you  send  me  for?" 

Wogan  smiled  good-naturedly.  "It  wasn't  an 
unpleasant  trip,  was  it  —  with  all  your  expenses 
paid?'1 

"It  wasn't  unpleasant,"  she  replied,  dubiously 
and  perplexed;  then  she  broke  out  again.  "See 
here,  Wesley  Wogan,  I  believe  you're  fooling  me ! 
You  said  all  you  had  to  do  was  to  bring  suit  and  get 
that  land.  But  you  haven't  brought  any  suit. 
You  haven't  done  anything  but  tell  me  one  thing 
and  another  and  send  me  up  to  Montana  and  bring 
me  back  here.  I  believe  you're  fooling  me!" 

"What  object  could  I  have  in  fooling  you,  my 
dear?"  said  the  lawyer,  suavely.  "I've  paid  you  a 
good  deal  of  money,  haven't  I?  I  can't  get  any 
money  back  unless  I  get  the  land  for  you,  can  I? 
What  object  could  I  have  in  fooling  you?" 

"Where'd  you  get  the  money?"  she  demanded, 
bluntly  and  hostilely.  "You  didn't  have  any." 

Wogan  flushed  slightly  at  this  impolite  thrust. 
"Look  here,  Fanny,"  he  said  sharply.  "You've 
taken  my  money  and  duly  receipted  for  it  and  you've 
made  me  a  partner  in  this  suit.  Now  understand  ! 
I  can  hold  you  tight  as  a  rivet  whether  you  like  it  or 
not.  Don't  get  any  foolish  idea  of  kicking  over 
the  traces ;  because  I'll  bring  you  up  with  a  quick 
turn  if  you  do.  Just  imagine  that  I  know  my  busi 
ness.  If  you  behave  yourself  and  do  as  I  tell  you, 
I'll  make  a  good  recovery  for  you,  just  as  I  promised. 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  257 

If  you  don't,  why  I'll  go  ahead  anyhow.  You  can't 
stop  me." 

Fanny  bit  her  lip.  "I  know  you're  a  smart  lawyer 
all  right,"  she  began.  Then  she  turned  to  him,  her 
brow  contracted,  pleading.  "Mr.  Wogan,  what 
would  you  want  to  hurt  me  for?  I  never  hurt  any 
body  in  my  life.  You  know  I'm  poor  and  haven't 
many  friends." 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea  of  hurting  you,  my 
dear,"  Wogan  replied  gently.  "On  the  contrary, 
I  want  to  do  you  good.  But  you  must  be  reasonable 
and  not  spoil  everything  when  we're  about  to 
succeed." 

She  regarded  him  with  troubled,  questioning 
eyes.  "I  don't  want  to  go  to  Ted,"  she  said,  low. 
"Let  him  stay  out  of  it.  He's  one  of  the  best 
friends  I've  got  in  the  world  —  one  of  the  best.  I'd 
want  to  die  if  I  let  him  in  for  any  trouble." 

"If  he's  your  friend"  —  Wogan  cleared  his 
throat  softly,  to  overcome  a  slight  huskiness  of 
speech  —  "he  ought  to  be  all  the  more  willing  to 
give  you  a  little  lift  now.  Of  course,  I  could  sub 
poena  him ;  but  it's  better  to  have  it  arranged, 
friendly,  beforehand." 

"Is  it  really  and  truly  —  necessary?"  she  asked, 
in  a  way  that  begged  to  be  let  off. 

"Quite  necessary,"  Wogan  replied;  and  he  added 
gently,  "You  do  as  I  tell  you  now,  and  you'll  come 
out  on  top  of  the  heap." 

"Well,"  she  said  reluctantly.      She  stared  at  the 


258  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

wall  a  moment;  then  arose,  mechanically.  "But  I 
won't  do  anything  like  this  again,"  she  said,  warn- 
ingly,  with  a  shake  of  her  head.  That  feminine 
ending  someway  relieved  Wogan's  mind,  and  Old 
Alphabet  was  smiling  as  he  opened  the  door. 

Fanny  took  her  troubled  way  up  the  hill.  She 
was,  someway,  not  satisfied.  She  had  a  kind  of 
pathetic  faith  in  her  own  propensity  to  get  into 
trouble.  She  never  had  nor  could  exactly  trust 
Wogan  —  although  the  dazzling  story  he  told  her 
about  the  land  looked  so  plausible. 

Penrose  lodged  in  an  old-fashioned  square  brick 
house  which,  like  the  Holmes  place,  being  out  of 
the  line  of  fashionable  development,  had  fallen  from 
its  estate  of  a  family  mansion.  He  had  a  suite  in 
the  second  story  and  was  the  principal  dependence 
of  the  gloomy  landlady  who  had  to  overlook  his 
morals  in  consideration  of  the  rent  he  paid,  which 
formed  so  considerable  an  item  in  her  budget. 
She  came  to  the  door  and  told  Fanny  —  in  a  way 
which  left  no  doubt  of  her  idea  of  the  propriety  of  a 
young  lady's  calling  upon  a  young  gentleman  at  his 
lodgings  —  that  Mr.  Penrose  had  not  come  in.  She 
could  not  refuse  the  sombre  hospitality  of  her  parlor, 
however.  There  Fanny  waited,  an  hour,  two  hours. 

At  length  she  heard  the  latch-key  in  the  lock,  the 
springing  step  in  the  hall  and  upon  the  stair,  and 
ran  to  the  door,  calling. 

Ted  turned,  halfway  up  the  stairs,  and  instantly 
ran  down,  blithely.  His  eyes  sparkled;  his  brill- 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  259 

iant,  eager  smile,  and  the  quick  motions  of  his 
outreached  hands,  seemed  the  result  of  a  kind  of 
intoxication. 

In  truth  he  was  drunk.  He  had  given  up.  Even 
now  he  came  straight  from  Louise,  with  whom  he 
had  spent  most  of  the  afternoon  —  taking  care  to 
leave  before  David  returned.  Why  should  he  tor 
ment  and  mutilate  himself?  Why  shouldn't  he 
take  some  joy  into  his  little  life?  The  blood  sped 
in  his  veins.  He  laughed,  gayly,  fondly;  kept  one 
of  Fanny's  hands,  as  though  they  were  children 
together,  as  he  led  her  back  into  the  dismal  parlor. 

She  told  him  that  Wogan  wished  to  see  him  about 
some  testimony  in  a  lawsuit  that  he  was  managing 
for  her. 

"Wogan?"  He  sat  beside  her,  smiling.  "What's 
this  you're  up  to  with  Wogan,  girl  ?  He'll  skin  you 
out  of  your  eye-teeth.  Tell  me  about  it." 

His  gay,  frank  liking  loosed  Fanny's  troubled 
heart.  Here  was  a  friend,  true  and  powerful  with 
the  power  of  money.  She  told  him  the  whole  story 
of  the  lawsuit  from  beginning  to  end. 

"Why,  Fanny,  it's  three  to  one  that  it's  just  some 
cheap  crooked  game,"  he  said.  "You  know  Wogan. 
He's  only  a  drunken  bum.  I'll  bet  he's  trying  to 
hold  somebody  up  for  the  price  of  a  drink.  But, 
whatever  it  is,  don't  you  be  alarmed.  He  can't  hurt 
you.  I'll  go  to  see  him  and  find  out  what's  up." 

"I  suppose  it's  some  sort  of  trouble,"  she  said, 
in  a  voice  a  bit  uncertain.  "I  knew  I  oughtn't 


260  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

to  trust  him  —  almost.  But  you  see,  he  explained  it 
all  clear  enough,  and  I'd  heard  my  mother  talk 
about  that  land.  And  it  wouldn't  cost  rne  a  cent 
and  I  might  get  a  lot  of  money.  So  why  shouldn't 
I  try  it?  But  in  the  end  —  I  get  into  trouble." 

"  Whenever  you're  in  trouble,  Fanny,  come  to 
me,'7  he  said  with  an  abrupt  gravity.  "  You're 
one  of  the  best  friends  I  ever  had." 

"Me,  Teddie?  Oh,  no!"  The  color  went  over 
her  face,  and  her  voice  clung  with  sweetness. 

"One  of  the  very  best  friends  I  ever  had,  Fanny," 
he  repeated.  "You're  a  dear  to  come  to  me  when 
I  can  do  anything  for  you." 

His  suddenly  grave  and  tender  eyes  looked  steadily 
at  her.  An  exceedingly  strange  idea  was  drifting 
across  his  mind.  He  knew  well  enough  that  she 
loved  him ;  that  he  was  the  only  man  against  whom 
she  had  no  defences.  She  was  fond  and  firm  and 
brave.  Even  now,  when  he  was  about  to  go  deli- 
ciously  to  the  devil,  why  shouldn't  he  turn  to  her 
and  let  her  take  him  away  somewhere,  anywhere, 
and  take  care  of  him?  It  couldn't  be  so  intoler 
ably  lonesome  with  her. 

"You  always  been  ready  to  help  me,  Ted,"  she 
said  murmurously. 

"I'm  in  a  lot  of  trouble  myself  right  now,  Fanny," 
he  answered  with  a  sober  frankness. 

"You,  Teddie?"  Her  voice  clung  with  sweetness 
again.  She  reached  out  impulsively;  her  strong 
fingers  closed  over  his.  "Could  I  give  you  a  boost  ?" 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  261 

The  instant  before  she  spoke  his  mother  came  to 
his  mind.  That  beautiful,  proud,  mischievous  face 
abruptly  made  the  drifting  thought  ridiculous. 
What  a  mess  she  would  think  it ! 

"Not  unless  you're  ready  to  shoot  me,"  he  replied 
lightly.  "I  suppose  it's  incurable."  He  patted 
her  shoulder  comfortingly.  "But  don't  worry  about 
Wogan.  We'll  go  see  him  right  now." 

"I  guess  you  better  telephone,"  she  said.  "He 
told  me  to." 

Ted  went  down  the  hall  to  the  instrument  and 
called  up  Wogan. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

WOGAN  received  Penrose's  message,  hung  up  the 
receiver,  and  turned  disconcertedly  to  Codley. 

11  They're  coming  down  here  together  —  Penrose 
and  Fanny/7  he  said. 

"Why  didn't  you  head  her  off?"  Old  Alphabet 
demanded,  harshly  and  frowning. 

"Well — there  wasn't  any  time.  He  just  spoke 
and  hung  up  the  receiver/7  Wogan  replied,  and 
brushed  his  hand  nervously  across  his  cheek.  That 
harsh  tone,  the  frown  and  cold,  half-hostile  look  that 
accompanied  it,  threw  him  off  his  balance,  produced 
a  small  chill  in  his  mind.  "We  can  have  her  wait 
on  the  stairs/7  he  suggested,  "or  send  her  away.77 

Codley  considered ;  absently  ruffled  his  bristling 
mustache;  gently  cleared  his  throat.  "It  doesn7t 
matter/7  he  said  tranquilly.  "You  know  what  to 
do.  You  can  let  her  stay  in  the  front  room.77  His 
eye,  glancing  at  Wogan,  held  the  glint  of  something 
oddly  malicious,  satirical,  hostile. 

A  curious  little  drama  was  playing  itself  out  in 
Old  Alphabet's  able  brain.  He  was  perfectly  aware 
that  Winthrop  Holmes,  with  his  three  best  witnesses 
gone,  had  only  one  chance  out  of  a  dozen  of  winning 
his  case  against  Thomas.  He,  as  a  careful  strate- 

262 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  263 

gist,  might  have  a  certain  justification  in  wiping  out 
the  twelfth  chance.  But  that  wasn't  the  only  — 
perhaps  not  the  main  —  reason  for  the  move  that 
was  now  to  be  made.  He  hated  Frederick  Has- 
brook.  It  had  tasted  good  to  him  when,  in  this 
very  room,  the  color  went  out  of  that  man's  face 
and  the  strength  out  of  his  veins.  That  feast  for 
his  malignancy  hadn't  sated  its  appetite.  Also 
he  hated  the  Penroses.  Yet  he  was  human,  too. 
Beside  the  wolf  in  his  soul  that  licked  her  chops 
when  it  was  whispered  to  her  what  was  going  to  be 
done  to  Teddie  Penrose,  there  was  something  else 
that  started  and  quailed.  Deep  in  him,  even  Old 
Alphabet  had  a  certain  perception  that  a  man  who 
looked  on  at  too  many  things  of  this  kind  was  going 
to  be  pretty  well  damned.  He  had  been  feeding 
the  wolf  that  afternoon.  Yet  when  Fanny's  coming 
suddenly  offered  a  neat  opportunity,  he  decided  to 
run  away.  Let  Wesley  do  it.  Wesley  was  good 
and  damned  already ! 

The  glint  of  this  was  in  his  eye ;  but  his  voice  had 
never  been  more  amiable.  "You  know  what  to  do, 
Wesley.  You  can  manage  him  easily  enough  if  he 
flies  off  the  handle.  Keep  your  hand  tight  on  these, 
you  know."  He  took  the  package  of  letters  from 
his  pocket  and  laid  them  on  the  table.  "We're 
very  close  to  the  harbor  now,  you  know.  We 
mustn't  strike  any  sand-bars."  He  put  on  his  hat 
and  stumped  out. 

Wogan  slipped  the  letters  in  his  pocket,  his  eyes 


264  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

still  upon  the  door  through  which  Old  Alphabet  had 
disappeared.  The  chill  remained  in  his  mind. 
That  glimpse  of  something  cynical,  hostile,  heartless, 
in  the  elder  man's  glance  whipped  him  as  with  a  rod. 
He  was  absolutely  dependent  upon  Codley;  had,  as 
yet,  received  little  money  from  him  except  for  ex 
penses.  He  was  the  superior  villain's  tool.  It  was 
the  common  experience  of  tools  to  be  thrown  away 
when  used.  The  degradation  from  which  he  seemed 
to  have  emerged  —  the  state  of  a  bum,  moneyless, 
shabby,  sleeping  on  the  frowzy  lounge  —  subtly 
upreared  itself  and  threatened  him. 

He  was  not  so  completely  case-hardened  as  he 
should  have  been  for  his  work.  He  had  once  known 
some  gentility.  His  wife's  letter  had  thrown  him 
out  of  balance.  Fanny's  plea  had  disturbed  him. 
The  task  immediately  in  hand  made  him  oddly 
afraid.  He  thought  he  knew  why  Codley  was  leav 
ing  him  to  deal  with  it  alone  —  because  he  was  well 
damned  already.  And  there  was  something  else 
which,  all  day  long,  had  been  incessantly  whispering 
and  teasing  at  his  soul;  touching  his  throat  with 
hot  little  fingers.  Some  beads  of  perspiration  sud 
denly  stood  out  on  his  forehead.  Under  the  complex 
strain  something  mysteriously  gave  way. 

He  hopped  up  nimbly,  ran  to  the  front  window,  and 
peered  out.  Daylight  was  beginning  to  fail ;  but  he 
could  see  Old  Alphabet's  lank  figure  plainly  enough 
stumping  down  the  street,  turning  the  corner.  He 
seized  his  hat,  flew  downstairs,  cut  hurriedly  across 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  265 

the  street  and  down  an  alley,  and  so  reached  the 
United  States  Hotel  bar-room.  When  he  returned 
fifteen  minutes  later,  he  was  quite  serene,  fortified, 
pleasantly  ready  for  any  chance.  Even  a  flitting 
suspicion  that  Old  Alphabet  might  have  come  back 
,  did  not  disturb  him  much.  He  found  the  office 
open  and  empty  as  he  had  left  it,  however,  and  dark 
ening.  So  he  lit  the  gas  in  the  outer  and  inner  rooms, 
pulled  down  the  shade,  and  took  a  seat  at  the  bat 
tered  table.  From  one  pocket  he  took  a  bottle,  from 
another  a  package  of  aromatic  pills,  very  effective 
in  scenting  the  breath ;  both  he  tucked  into  a  drawer. 
As  he  waited,  a  troup  of  little  imps  danced  merrily 
in  his  brain. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  When  Teddie  and  Fanny 
appeared,  he  met  them  composedly,  told  Fanny  to 
sit  down  in  the  outer  room ;  took  Penrose  inside  and 
closed  the  door. 

Ted  did  not  wait  for  him  to  begin,  nor  attempt 
to  conceal  his  amusement ;  but  dropped  in  a  chair, 
smiling  broadly. 

"What  are  you  up  to  now,  Wogan?"  he  asked 
cheerfully. 

The  tone  was  not  lost  upon  the  lawyer.  Never 
theless  he  preserved  his  composure. 

"I  suppose  you've  heard,"  he  said  calmly,  "of 
a  case  entitled,  The  People  versus  Allan  Thomas,  in 
which  Thomas  is  accused  of  an  attempt  to  commit 
arson  ?  " 

"Why,  certainly  I've  heard  of  it,"  Ted  replied, 


266  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

surprised.  "That  business  of  burning  Dennis 
O'Neill's  distillery." 

" Exactly,"  Wogan  replied.  "The  only  witness 
the  State  has  left  is  David  Donovan.  My  under 
standing  is  that  his  wife  insists  upon  his  testifying. 
You're  a  friend  of  hers.  I  thought  you  might  use 
your  influence  to  see  that  he  doesn't  testify." 

Ted  stared  with  all  his  eyes;  flushed  and  paled. 
He  tried  to  discredit  his  senses.  That  secret,  dear 
and  disgraceful,  hid  in  the  bottom  of  his  heart, 
wrapped  about  with  fold  on  fold  of  secrecy,  guarded 
by  all  his  faculties  —  and  now  this  drunken  bar 
room  bum,  this  fellow  of  the  gutter,  reaching  a  dirty 
hand  to  it !  Suddenly  he  tipped  back  his  head  and 
laughed  with  uproarious,  half-hysterical  energy. 
"Why,  Wesley,  it's  a  peach!"  he  cried.  "Your 
jag,  I  mean.  You  couldn't  have  got  it  with  just 
whiskey.  You  must  have  been  smoking  opium." 

Wogan  understood  the  insult.  A  sinister  light 
shone  in  his  dark  eye ;  his  lip  lifted  a  little. 

"Do  you  think  you  have  my  proposition  firmly 
fixed  in  your  mind,  Penrose?"  he  said  coolly. 
"That  you're  to  exert  yourself  to  prevent  David 
Donovan  from  testifying?" 

"I'll  never  forget  it !  I  enjoy  a  joke  too  much  !" 
Ted  cried,  and  tried  to  laugh  again ;  but  it  sounded 
hollow  to  him.  "See  here,"  he  said.  "I  thought 
you  had  a  case  in  which  Fanny  Trescott  was  in 
terested." 

"That  case  is  set  forth  in  this  little  bill,"  Wogan 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  267 

replied.  He  took  the  type-written  document  — 
the  same  that  Frederick  Hasbrook  had  seen  —  out 
of  a  drawer  and  tossed  it  across  the  table.  "Read 
it." 

Teddie,  still  mechanically  agrin,  took  up  the  bill 
as  though  he  meant  merely  to  glance  at  it.  But 
the  caption  arrested  his  eye.  Under  the  formal 
designation  of  the  court  appeared  the  title  of  the 
case:  " Fanny  Trescott,  plaintiff,  versus  Frederick 
Hasbrook,  defendant." 

Hasbrook's  name  surprised  him,  aroused  a  new 
interest.  He  set  himself  to  reading  the  bill,  and  in 
a  moment  he  sobered  with  an  almost  impersonal 
touch  of  sympathy,  as  it  occurred  to  him  that  Wogan 
must  have  gone  clean  daft.  For  this  crazy  bill 
began  by  reciting  Nellie  Trescott's  divorce  of  twenty 
years  ago.  Mrs.  Trescott,  it  said,  had  kept  silent  and 
permitted  her  husband  to  divorce  her.  Thereby 
her  own  reputation  and  the  social  standing  and  pros 
pects  in  life  of  her  children,  especially  of  this  plain 
tiff,  Fanny  Trescott,  had  been  very  greatly  injured. 
And  the  said  Nellie  Trescott  had  permitted  herself 
to  be  divorced,  not  that  she  had  been  at  fault  in 
respect  of  her  marriage  obligations,  nor  of  her  own 
free  will;  but  because  she  had  been  persuaded  and 
coerced  thereto  by  the  said  Frederick  Hasbrook. 
The  said  Frederick  Hasbrook  was  at  that  time 
carrying  on  a  guilty  correspondence  with  another 
woman,  wiiom  he  met  at  the  place  of  business  of 
the  said  Nellie  Trescott,  to  whom  he  sent,  and  from 


268  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

whom  he  received  letters  and  messages  by  the  hand 
of  said  Nellie  Trescott.  It  was  the  acts  of  said 
Hasbrook  in  carrying  on  said  correspondence  with 
said  other  woman  that  aroused  the  unfounded  jeal 
ousy  of  Nellie  Trescott's  husband  and  moved  him 
to  demand  a  divorce.  These  acts  of  Hasbrook's 
also  gave  rise  to  much  common  gossip  prejudicial 
to  the  reputation  of  Nellie  Trescott  and  highly  in 
jurious  to  the  standing  and  prospects  of  her  children, 
especially  this  plaintiff. 

Wading  on  through  the  involved,  archaic  legal 
phraseology  —  which  was  an  absurdity  in  itself  — 
it  came  to  Penrose  that,  after  all,  a  high  degree  of 
skill  had  been  employed  in  framing  this  bill.  In 
spite  of  its  dry  legal  form  it  managed  here  and  there 
to  shadow  forth  a  dark,  old  romance  in  such  wise 
as  really  gripped  the  reader's  interest.  He  turned 
a  page,  paused,  and  looked  up,  frowning  with  per 
plexity. 

"  Why,  see  here,  Wogan,"  he  said,  "if  you  drew  this 
bill,  you're  evidently  still  in  possession  of  some  of 
your  faculties;  and  unless  you're  plumb  crazy  you 
must  know  that  the  whole  thing  is  absolutely 
ridiculous.  It  points  plainly  enough  to  this :  that 
Fanny  Trescott  is  going  to  claim  damages  of  Fred 
erick  Hasbrook  because  something  that  Hasbrook  did 
twenty  years  ago  injured  her  mother's  reputation  — 
the  mother  herself  being  long  dead.  I  don't  claim 
to  be  a  lawyer;  yet  I'm  lawyer  enough  to  know 
that  this  bill  would  be  laughed  to  pieces  —  simply 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  269 

kicked  out  of  court  —  in  two  minutes.  Why,  it's 
rot!" 

"The  bill,  my  dear  youth,  may  be  rot,  as  you  say, 
from  a  legal  point  of  view,"  Wogan  returned.  "It 
might  be  kicked  out  of  court  in  even  less  than  two 
minutes.  But  if  it  is  on  file  for  two  seconds,  it 
thereby  becomes  a  part  of  the  court  records;  and 
as  a  part  of  the  court  records  it  is  accessible  and 
available  for  publication  to  any  enterprising  news 
paper  that  chooses  to  use  it.  Does  that  fact  convey 
any  suggestion  to  you?" 

A  shadow,  vague  but  sinister,  arose  before  Ted's 
mind.  He  understood.  "I  see!  Blackmail !"  he 
said.  He  comprehended  that  the  bill  would  have 
served  its  purpose  the  moment  it  was  put  on  file  and 
thereby  made  available  for  publication;  that  it 
was  meant  merely  as  a  vehicle  for  giving  a  scan 
dalous  story  to  the  press.  Nobody  would  care  what 
became  of  it  afterward.  Also  he  understood  some 
thing  else.  No  lawyer  with  any  reputation  to  lose 
would  touch  this  dirty  thing.  The  disreputable 
bum  Wogan  was  just  the  sort  of  tongs  that  a  shrewd 
man  would  employ  for  handling  the  foul  rag.  He 
saw,  but  did  not  at  the  moment  identify,  the  outline 
of  a  larger  figure  in  the  background. 

So  with  a  sobered  and  indefinitely  alarmed  mind 
Ted  turned  again  to  the  bill  and  read  on.  In  a 
moment  his  eye  slipped  from  the  page  with  an  odd 
little  shock.  He  had  come  to  a  paragraph  which 
set  up  that  in  the  month  of  October  in  the  year  of 


270  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

our  Lord  1881,  Hasbrook  especially  aroused  the 
jealous  suspicions  of  Herbert  A.  Trescott,  husband 
of  said  Nellie  Trescott,  and  to  a  peculiar  degree  gave 
ground  for  scandalous  gossip  concerning  said  Nellie 
Trescott,  because  said  Hasbrook  then  went  to  her 
place  of  business  several  times  every  day  and  in  the 
evening,  the  real  reason  being  that  said  Hasbrook 
was  then  excessively  anxious  to  receive  notes  and 
messages  from  said  other  woman,  because  she,  the 
said  other  woman,  had  on  some  date  between  the 
tenth  and  the  fifteenth  of  October,  in  said  year  1881, 
given  birth  to  a  child  and  was  unable  either  to  leave 
her  house  or  to  receive  the  personal  visits  of  said 
Hasbrook.  Here  followed  copies  of  the  several 
notes  or  letters  which  had  passed  at  that  time. 

Ted  looked  up,  his  brow  somewhat  contracted. 
"Have  you  the  originals  of  these  letters?77  he  asked. 
He  was  still  incredulous,  yet  vaguely  perplexed ; 
indefinitely  alarmed. 

"I  have,"  said  Wogan.  "You  will  notice  that 
the  name  of  that  other  woman  is  not  given  in  the 
bill.  Of  course  the  bill  can  easily  be  amended  in 
that  particular.77  He  took  a  note  from  the  package 
in  his  pocket,  returned  the  others,  and  buttoned 
up  his  coat.  Also  he  opened  the  drawer  in  front  of 
him  a  little  way.  "Here  is  one  of  the  notes,77  he 
said,  and  laid  it  midway  of  the  table,  with  his  left 
hand  upon  the  top  of  it. 

Ted  bent  over;  his  eyes  took  in  the  handwriting 
—  and  Wogan  was  too  slow.  For  Ted  snatched  the 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  271 

note  from  under  his  hand,  and  leapt  to  his  feet, 
bloodless  and  glaring. 

Wogan's  right  hand  came  out  of  the  drawer  with 
a  revolver  in  it. 

" Steady  now/7  he  said,  under  his  breath.  "I'll 
shoot  you  with  all  the  good  nature  in  the  world,  and 
file  my  bill,  too.  Remember  that." 

Ted's  face  was  a  marble  mask  of  agony.  He 
seemed  about  to  shed  tears  of  stone.  A  tiny  foam 
bubble  broke  at  the  corner  of  his  livid  lips.  He 
tore  the  note  into  shreds. 

"That's  all  right,  too,"  said  Wogan.  "I've  got 
others,  you  know.  Remember  what  I  said  to  you 
about  David  Donovan.  Go  to  his  wife.  You've  got 
her  under  your  thumb.  Tell  her  he  mustn't  testify. 
Then  this  bill  goes  in  the  stove.  Otherwise  it  goes 
on  file,  and  into  Julius  Brown's  paper." 

Ted  whirled  about  and  rushed  from  the  room, 
flinging  wide  open  the  door  to  the  outer  office.  Thus 
Wogan  saw  Fanny  Trescott  spring  up  with  out 
stretched  arms;  saw  Ted  strike  her  and  rush  by; 
heard  her  wail,  "Oh,  Teddie !  Teddie!"  For  a 
moment  her  head  seemed  to  float  in  the  other  room, 
amazed,  staring,  heart-broken.  She  gave  a  moaning 
sob  and 'went  out,  too  distraught  even  to  remember 
the  lawyer  or  where  she  was. 

It  struck  Wogan  that  he  had  seen  two  young  souls 
plunge  into  the  pit.  He  felt  an  aching  laxness  in 
his  nerves  as  he  sat,  with  his  dry  lips  apart,  looking 
blankly  into  the  outer  room.  Then  he  was  aware  of 


272  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

a  hot  little  finger  in  his  throat.  He  snatched  the 
bottle  from  the  drawer,  turned  and  shattered  it  in 
the  grate.  That  was  it !  The  drink  was  getting 
him  again !  He  was  going  to  hell  with  it !  He 
leaned  his  sweaty  brow  upon  his  hands  and  closed 
his  ringers  in  his  hair.  But  the  powerful  scent  from 
the  broken  bottle  was  in  his  nostrils. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

RUNNING  down  the  stairs,  Ted  came  out  on  the 
shabby  street.  It  had  grown  dusk.  The  street- 
lamps  were  lighted.  The  feed-store  man  was  sitting 
in  the  door  of  his  shop,  contentedly  smoking  a 
cob  pipe.  His  little  child  sprawled  on  the  sidewalk 
in  Ted's  way.  The  father  spoke  to  it  —  mainly  by 
way  of  apologizing  to  Ted  for  its  being  in  the  way  — 
and  made  to  rise,  with  an  outstretched  hand  to  pick 
it  up.  Ted  stepped  around  the  child,  however.  An 
old  woman  had  brought  a  chair  out  on  the  sidewalk, 
for  the  pleasant  evening  air,  a  little  further  along. 
Across  the  way  some  youngsters  sat  on  the  edge  of 
the  sidewalk.  A  wagon  lumbered  by.  Some  foot- 
passengers  walked  along. 

Penrose  only  vaguely  saw  these  things;  yet  they 
imposed  a  certain  restraint  upon  him.  His  very 
pores  took  in  a  sense  of  the  commonplace,  conven 
tional  aspect  of  the  poor  street.  Mechanically 
he  moderated  his  pace  to  a  rapid  walk.  When  he 
turned  the  corner,  heading  up  Broadway,  he  was 
walking  still  more  slowly.  The  lights,  street-cars, 
stores,  people,  mysteriously  laid  a  touch  upon  him. 
He  began  to  think  how  he  should  do  the  thing  he 
had  in  mind.  He  remembered  —  as  though  some 

T  273 


274  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

one  had  abruptly  spoken  it  to  him  —  that  Wogan 
would  be  on  his  guard. 

He  paused  before  the  plate-glass  window  of  the 
pawnshop.  A  score  of  revolvers  were  displayed  for 
sale.  As  he  stared  down  at  them,  a  coatless  little 
man  came  flying  eagerly  out  of  the  shop,  and  bobbed 
against  his  elbow. 

"Refolfers?  I  got  a  elegant  line!  Sheap !  Dirt 
sheap !  Lemme  show  you  a  automatic  —  nine 
tollers!"  He  laid  a  hand,  not  very  clean,  on  Ted's 
arm. 

"I  was  just  looking  in,"  said  Ted,  dully,  and  turned 
to  shake  off  the  solicitous  hand. 

"I  mage  it  eight  sefenty-fife,"  said  the  little  man, 
excitedly,  trotting  beside  him.  "I  got  others  — 
sheaper.  Oh,  veil,  if  you  don'  wanda  buy!"  The 
last  sarcastically,  as  Ted  walked  away. 

No,  I  can't  do  it !  I  can't  do  it !  Ted  was  saying 
over  to  himself.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his  heart  was 
weeping  in  sorrow  over  itself  because  it  was  of  too 
soft  stuff  to  do  murder.  Without  exactly  knowing 
what  he  was  about  he  took  a  street  leading  east,  and 
when  he  found  himself  by  the  Court  House,  he  climbed 
the  steps  that  led  to  the  yard  and  sat  down  mechan 
ically  on  a  bench.  His  stunned  spirit  began  to  toss 
and  work.  He  remembered  the  stuff  Wogan  had 
said  about  the  Thomas  case  and  David's  testifying. 
.  .  .  Abruptly  the  very  soul  of  the  tragedy  descended 
upon  him  anew  and  with  such  power  that  his  limbs 
trembled  and  he  shuddered  through  and  through. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  275 

He  saw  a  beautiful,  imperious  woman.  There  was 
something  mortally  loathsome  in  her  beauty  —  even 
when  she  seemed  to  smile  brilliantly  and  toueh  his 
hand.  And  there  was  Wogan,  something  lower  than 
any  other  animal,  ready  to  rend  her  in  public,  to 
strip  her  and  set  dogs  upon  her  in  the  street. 

He  sprang  up,  breathless,  and  hurried  away,  again 
without  knowing  exactly  whither  he  was  going. 
Only,  every  moment,  his  mind  would  start  up  and 
cry  out.  It  can't  be  true  !  The  exercise  of  walking 
steadied  him  somewhat.  Presently  he  even  lifted 
up  his  white  face  and  stared  at  the  sky  —  so  serene, 
so  untroubled,  with  its  stars.  He  stopped  a  while 
before  the  darkened,  gloomy  Penrose  castle.  Some 
way  its  solidity  enticed  his  sickness  with  a  brittle 
hope.  A  body  of  things  —  gay,  brilliantly  lighted, 
secure  —  that  had  happened  there  vaguely  appealed 
to  him.  The  lump  of  lead  in  his  breast  beat  up  a 
very  little.  That  drunken  bum  Wogan  must,  after 
all,  be  lying.  He  took  the  road  again ;  tramped  on 
another  mile. 

The  cemetery  gate  stood  open.  As  he  walked  in 
he  again  looked  up  at  the  serene  sky.  Three  or  four 
years  had  passed  since  he  had  visited  the  place,  and 
under  its  pine  trees  the  dark  was  thicker.  Several 
times  he  missed  his  way  among  the  winding  paths 
and  ghostly  stones.  But  at  length  he  found  the  spot 
he  sought.  The  new  mausoleum  was  not  ghostly 
but  gristly,  even  garish.  That,  however,  was  not 
what  he  wanted.  It  was  the  simple  marble  slab 


276  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

three  or  four  yards  to  the  left.  He  stood  before  it, 
reached  out  and  touched  it.  Time  had  roughened 
its  edges.  Even  as  he  touched  it  he  knew  in  his 
heart  that  Wogan's  lie  was  true. 

He  struck  a  match,  shielding  it  with  his  hands, 
as  he  knelt  to  read  the  inscription.  It  was  very 
simple  —  thus :  — 

"Fredericka,  daughter  of  James  A.  and  Bettina 
Penrose ;  born  October  13,  1881 ;  died  November  26, 
1883." 

He  could  remember  the  pretty  creature  —  the 
dear  little  live  doll.  It  was  the  birth-date  that  he 
wanted  to  know.  Wogan's  bill  had  said  it  was  be 
tween  the  tenth  and  the  fifteenth.  It  was  actually 
the  thirteenth  —  an  unlucky  day.  He  lay  down 
on  the  grave  with  wide-open  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

SATURDAY  morning  dawned  very  fair.  The  days 
were  still  warm,  although  the  maple  leaves  had  begun 
to  turn  golden  —  as  though  the  richness  of  the  sum 
mer  which  the  suave  air  held  in  solution  were  being 
precipitated  upon  them.  A  gentle  wind,  like  a  sigh  of 
content,  drew  across  the  valley. 

It  blew  into  the  dining-room  windows  of  the  old 
Holmes  place.  David  and  Louise,  glancing  out  as 
they  sat  at  breakfast,  were  aware  of  the  geniality 
of  the  day.  She  was  not  satisfied.  Many  times  in 
the  last  twenty-four  hours  she  had  said  to  herself, 
"He  must  stand  for  the  truth  on  Monday;  then  I 
will  pay  him  with  love.  Perhaps  he  feels  now  a 
touch  of  humiliation,  as  of  being  held  strictly  to  his 
bond.  But  afterward  he  will  see  it  as  I  do.' ' 

Yet  this  did  not  satisfy  her.  He  shouldn't  be 
doing  it  because  she  demanded  it,  but  because  he 
felt  it  to  be  right.  His  motive  —  to  please  her  — 
was  not  clear  and  strong  enough.  There  was  a  touch 
of  sad  disappointment  in  her  soul  because  he  did 
not  already  see  it  as  she  did  and  feel  her  sacrificial 
passion  for  the  truth. 

Almost  every  hour  that  passed,  and  brought  the 
trial  a  step  nearer,  wound  up  her  heart ;  bit  into  her 

277 


278  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

mind  with  a  sense  of  the  imminence  of  the  crisis. 
Some  way  they  had  undermined  Frederick  —  a 
thing  she  had  thought  impossible.  They  were  power 
ful,  cunning,  sleepless.  She  fairly  felt  them  darkly 
digging  away  at  David  —  at  genial,  light-hearted, 
practical-minded,  careless  David.  This  was  the  last 
business  day  before  the  trial.  It  would  be  this  day, 
perhaps,  that  they  would  spring  some  trap  upon  him. 

Breakfast  was  seldom  a  talkative  meal  with  them. 
This  morning  they  said  less  than  usual.  They  had 
said  nothing  at  all  about  the  grand  subject  since 
Thursday  night  —  although  she  had  been  straining 
her  ears  to  catch  a  word  from  him ;  something  that 
would  show  that  he  was  seeing  it  as  she  saw  it,  and 
giving  his  allegiance  to  the  right  with  a  free  will. 

David  arose,  finally.  "Well,  I  must  be  going," 
he  said  cheerfully ;  took  up  his  hat  and  came  around 
to  her  side  of  the  table  and  stooped  and  kissed  her, 
smiling  a  little,  pinching  her  cheek. 

She,  too,  arose  and  walked  into  the  living  room 
with  him.  She  was  pale  now,  and  her  lip  trembled 
slightly.  Her  heart  fluttered  and  beat  painfully. 
His  good-humor  suddenly  struck  her  with  a  penetrat 
ing  dismay.  She  seemed  to  see  him  walking  into 
the  ambush  all  unarmed  and  carelessly  confident. 
She  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"To-day,  David  —  be  careful  what  you  do;  be 
watchful,"  she  breathed,  her  breast  swelling  with 
the  throbbing  of  her  heart.  "Your  eyes  are  not  yet 
open.  This  trial  is  all  —  everything  —  to  me." 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  279 

"Not  much  danger  of  my  going  wrong  to-day, 
Loie,"  he  replied  rather  lightly  and  with  a  little 
smile.  "I'm  getting  ready  to  resign." 

" Resign?"  she  repeated. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "The  bank  called  my  loan  yes 
terday  —  notified  me  to  pay  it  up,  you  know.  They 
hold  all  my  stock  as  collateral.  They  can  do  a  good 
deal  as  they  please  with  me.  I  don't  care  to  stay 
there  without  the  good-will  of  Titus  and  Epperson. 
I  couldn't  do  anything  worth  while.  I  suppose 
they'd  let  me  remain  as  a  kind  of  superior  barn  boss ; 
but  that  wouldn't  suit  me.  I'll  have  a  talk  with 
Titus  this  afternoon.  If  he's  stiff  on  the  bit,  I'll 
quit." 

"Yes,  quit,  David!"  she  exclaimed.  "Let  them 
take  your  stock  and  your  position.  What  do  we 
care  for  that  ?" 

He  gave  a  little  shrug  of  one  shoulder. 

She  turned  paler.  "Which  is  the  most  to  you, 
David  —  that  or  your  wife  ?  I  could  sit  at  the  feet 
of  a  husband  who  was  merely  poor.  But  one  who 
sold  his  honor  —  never !" 

It  was  the  little  shrug  that  did  it.  She  had  not 
meant  to  put  the  case  so  harshly.  Yet  now  that 
she  had  spoken  she  stood  immovable.  "As  you 
said,  it  is  in  the  bond  between  you  and  me." 

She  stood  before  him  tall  and  white,  looking 
straight  into  his  eyes.  And  he,  looking  back,  saw  a 
strange  woman,  one  he  did  not  know,  whose  spirit 
appeared  to  him  with  a  sword  and  a  balance, 


280  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

putting  him  on  his  trial.  It  was  as  though,  with  a 
solemn  formality,  she  sat  robed  on  a  dais  and  heralds 
trumpeted  and  grave  men-at-arms  brought  him  to  her 
bar.  And  he  knew  that  she  had  meant  even  this. 

"True,  Loie,"  he  murmured. 

He  meant  no  pique  in  going  out  without  kissing 
her  at  the  door.  To  kiss  her  would  have  been  a  kind 
of  impertinence,  a  sort  of  frippery. 

He  went  into  the  bright  sunshine  with  a  heavy 
heart.  He  could  forgive  the  dear  hands  that  tied 
him  to  the  stake  —  only  he  wished  so  much  they 
had  not  done  it.  They  had  been  married  now  four 
months.  How  greatly  he  loved  her !  How  more 
greatly  he  meant  to  love  her  always !  There 
shouldn't  be  any  sword  and  balance  between  them. 
That  there  was  amounted  to  a  certain  failure  of  his 
love.  It  humiliated  him. 

He  chose  to  walk  to  the  office.  For  several  days 
he  had  been  putting  his  affairs  there  into  a  shape  to 
leave  them  —  if  that  should  be  necessary.  Now 
the  necessity  loomed  before  him.  He  didn't  propose 
to  stay  on  as  a  kind  of  superior  barn  boss,  with  Titus 
and  Epperson  hostile  to  him,  so  that  he  could  exert 
no  real  power  over  the  company,  have  no  true 
initiative  in  its  affairs.  He  detested  shuffling  and 
procrastinating.  He  proposed,  the  last  thing  in  the 
afternoon,  to  go  straight  to  Titus ;  tell  him  plumply 
that  he  was  going  to  testify  Monday ;  tell  him  also 
that  he  didn't  intend  to  keep  his  job  unless  the  capi 
talists  were  going  to  back  him  up  as  they  had  in  the 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  281 

past.  If  Titus  proved  frosty,  he  would  hand  in  his 
resignation. 

He  climbed  the  stairs,  and  paused  a  moment  on 
the  balcony  which  gave  to  his  office,  and  which  also 
overlooked  the  long  dynamo  room.  The  room  was 
still  and  scrupulously  clean.  The  warm  air  held  a 
faint,  soft  humming  from  the  generators  that  were 
sending  out  the  energy  which  moved  cars  over  a 
radius  of  twenty  miles.  Only  three  men,  each  in  a 
blue  blouse,  were  in  sight.  One  of  them  disappeared 
into  the  boiler-room  at  the  further  end,  and  as  the 
door  stood  ajar  David's  eye  caught  for  an  instant 
the  incandescent  glow  of  an  open  furnace,  hot  as 
with  elemental  fires.  The  huge  glass  transom  high 
up  on  the  south  wall  gave  an  irregular  view  of  the 
car  barn  with  long,  yellow  vehicles  silently  slipping 
in  and  out.  A  marble  switch-board,  barely  a  yard 
square,  was  set  in  this  wall.  The  touch  of  a  human 
hand  upon  those  little  levers  controlled  all. 

The  general  manager  lingered  a  moment  in  a  kind 
of  love  for  it.  In  a  way  it  was  his  home.  He  had 
built  it.  His  mind  ran  through  it.  These  masses 
of  brick  and  iron,  the  glowing  furnaces,  the  whirling 
dynamos,  were  figments  of  his  thought;  all  this 
plant  a  thing  of  power  from  the  loins  of  his  brain. 
It  seemed  very  good  to  him  —  a  man's  honest  work 
in  the  world,  to  be  done  with  his  head  and  his  muscu 
lar  hands.  Plenty  of  men  did  these  things,  without 
mussing  themselves  up  with  womanly  anxieties 
about  their  souls.  He  gave  a  little  sigh,  and  with 


282  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

a  last  look  before  turning  to  his  office,  he  hoped  the 
man  who  came  after  him  would  use  the  plant  and 
the  men  —  the  good  organization  of  enginery  and 
muscle  and  minds  —  decently  and  intelligently. 

He  went  in  to  his  desk.  The  day's  grist  took  up 
the  forenoon.  It  was  not  until  after  luncheon  that  he 
was  able  to  turn  to  the  several  unfinished  things  that 
he  wished  to  leave  in  perfect  shape  if  he  resigned. 
The  exercise  of  working  comforted  him.  After  all, 
there  was  always  work  in  the  world  for  a  capable 
man  to  do.  He  glanced  up  at  the  little  clock  on  his 
desk  from  time  to  time.  Titus  always  stayed  at  the 
bank  until  five.  He  must  get  around  before  that 
hour,  and  he  saw  that  he  would  be  rather  close- 
pressed  to  do  it.  He  caught  up  a  sheet  full  of 
figures  and  ran  nimbly  downstairs  to  consult  the 
auditor  about  it.  Sailing  under  full  steam  always 
rather  exhilarated  him.  One  would  have  thought 
him  quite  happy  seeing  him,  ten  minutes  later,  go 
up  the  stairs  two  at  a  time  and  bound  into  his  office  — 

But  he  stopped,  as  abruptly  as  though  he  had  been 
shot.  Ted  Penrose,  or  his  ghost,  was  sitting  in  his 
chair  by  the  big  desk. 

Ted  looked  a  wreck.  His  clothes  were  wrinkled 
and  bedraggled  as  though  he  had  slept  in  them.  His 
shoes  were  muddy.  Some  burs  stuck  to  his  trousers. 
Yet,  just  then,  it  was  only  his  face  that  David  saw  — 
waxed  and  drawn  as  though  he  had  suffered  a  painful 
death;  and  in  this  mask  his  living  eyes  seemed 
horrified  at  finding  themselves  quick  in  a  corpse. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  283 

It  was  no  time  to  talk.  Instinctively  David 
reached  behind  him  and  closed  the  door ;  then  went 
to  the  desk  with  careful  steps,  his  shoulders  bent 
forward,  his  head  held  low,  as  though  something  that 
could  blast  them  both  visibly  held  Ted  and  he  meant 
to  snatch  him  from  it.  He  laid  his  hand  on  Penrose's 
shoulder. 

"What  is  it,  Teddie?"  he  asked,  under  his  breath, 
quickly. 

"I  had  to  come  to  you,  Davy.  It's  a  terrible 
trouble."  Ted  enunciated  the  words  so  imperfectly 
that  David  had  to  stoop  and  bend  his  head  to  hear. 
He  had  eaten  nothing  for  a  day,  and  in  physical  fact 
he  could  not  endure  much  further.  He  could  not 
bring  his  stiff  lips  together  for  proper  utterance. 
In  this  mutilated  speech,  as  of  a  cranky  automaton, 
he  managed  to  convey  a  jerky  notion  of  Wogan's 
bill  —  designed  to  uncover  the  old  love  affair  of 
Frederick  Hasbrook  and  a  woman.  David  could 
gather  only  a  vague  hint  of  it. 

"But  this  woman,  Teddie  ?  Who's  this  woman  ?" 
he  asked. 

Penrose's  leg  stirred  convulsively ;  his  head  rolled 
to  one  side.  He  raised  his  hand.  David  took  it  and 
a  shock  went  through  him.  It  was  flaccid  and 
clammy.  His  own  strong  and  warm  fingers  closed 
tightly  over  it. 

Then  Teddie  whispered  two  little  words,  indis 
tinctly.  But  David's  strained  ear  caught  them,  and 
all  his  faculties  stopped.  His  own  lips  formed  the 


284  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

two  words  over  again ;  but  no  sound  came  from  them. 
He  stared  a  minute  long  at  the  man  in  the  chair. 
Then  he  stooped  and  put  his  arm  around  him. 

"You  must  brace  up,  Teddie.  We  must  see  to 
this,"  he  said.  Gently,  with  the  encircling  arm,  he 
lifted  the  dead  weight  to  its  feet.  "  Don't  faint, 
Ted.  You  must  brace  up,  old  boy.  We'll  see  to 
this,"  he  said  again. 

As  he  held  Penrose  firmly  to  his  shoulder  he  sud 
denly  understood  him.  He  had  always  been  fond 
of  Ted,  and  Ted  of  him ;  yet  in  Ted's  fondness  there 
had  ever  been  a  kind  of  irrepressible  jealousy  which 
his  sweet  temper  was  ever  putting  down  and  over 
coming.  Now,  David  suddenly  understood  all  that ; 
and  the  slim,  elegant  figure,  the  slender  hands,  the 
curly  head,  the  thin  cheeks  that  dimpled  so  easily. 
Some  way  there  was  a  girl  mixed  in  the  ingredients 
of  Ted's  soul.  It  was  this  strange,  sweet,  unborn 
girl  that  suffered  so  frightfully  in  this  crisis.  David 
understood  it.  He  even  understood  the  way  in 
which  Ted  loved  Louise. 

"We  must  get  to  Wogan,  old  man.  I'll  call  a  cab. 
Why,  we'll  pull  this  off  all  right,  Teddie  ! "  His  voice 
was  fairly  joyful.  He  still  held  Penrose  firmly  to 
his  shoulder.  "Of  course  Wogan  wants  something. 
What  is  it?'7 

Ted's  waxen  face  drew  as  with  a  new  suffering. 
"He  wants  you  not  to  testify  against  Thomas." 

"Why,  that's  easy  enough,  Ted.  Don't  you 
worry,"  said  David.  The  centre  of  his  being  thrilled 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  285 

with  pity,  and  he  was  exalted.  His  spirit  felt  the 
joy  of  knowing  himself  brave  and  generous.  He 
gave  Ted  a  hug.  "  You  must  brace  up,  now  !  We'll 
pull  it  off!" 

It  did  not  occur  to  him  then  that  Ted's  slender 
body  was  exhausted  from  lack  of  food  and  endless 
tramping,  besides  being  racked  by  anguish.  He 
saw  only  that  he  was  utterly  broken  —  so  broken 
that  he  seemed,  in  physical  fact,  near  to  death. 
David  promptly  took  the  business  upon  himself, 
ordering  a  cab,  telephoning  to  Wogan;  and  that 
harmony  remained  within  him,  that  sense  of  being 
pure  and  generous. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

CODLEY  and  Wogan  were  together.  They  had 
spent  the  day  in  the  dingy  office  awaiting  develop 
ments.  In  the  forenoon  Wogan  had  seemed  rather 
ailing  —  slightly  pale  and  with  eyes  a  little  blood 
shot.  The  night  before  he  had  emptied  a  bottle  and 
gone  straight  to  bed.  He  had  wakened  nervous,  but 
sober;  refreshed  himself  with  a  bath,  taken  a  new 
grip  of  himself ;  but  all  the  forenoon  he  had  suffered. 

He  thought  he  knew  why  Old  Alphabet  was  stick 
ing  to  him  so  closely.  He  seemed  to  see  the  reason 
twice  or  thrice  in  a  cold,  cynical  glance  of  the  old 
man's  eyes.  Old  Alphabet  suspected  that  he  had 
been  drinking.  "I  mustn't  do  it  again.  I  must 
fight  against  it,"  Wogan  had  said  to  himself  a 
hundred  times  that  day.  And  all  the  while  his 
tormented  soul  seemed  to  feel  the  little  imps  busy 
digging  away  the  ground  from  under  his  feet.  Of 
old  it  had  often  begun  in  exactly  this  way. 

His  power  of  resistance  had  been  subtly  weakened, 
and  he  was  aware  of  it.  Blackmailing  Frederick  Has- 
brook  might  be  all  well  enough  as  a  move  in  a  game 
which,  while  dirty,  had  a  reasonable  motive.  But  some 
way  he  ought  not  to  have  let  Codley's  malignancy 
push  him  on  to  this  other  business  of  torturing  young 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  287 

Penrose.  That  was  too  wolfish  —  a  bite  into  the 
throat  of  a  helpless  victim.  Wogan  saw  this  now,  in 
certain  clear  flashes  that  left  him  dripping  with  an 
indescribable  degradation.  It  was  this  degradation 
that  mysteriously  bound  his  hands  when  he  wished 
to  drive  away  the  little  imps  that  were  digging  the 
ground  from  under  his  feet. 

During  the  day  Codley  had  mentioned  specifically 
that  his  fee  for  the  business,  when  it  was  pros 
perously  concluded,  would  be  five  thousand  dollars. 
He  supposed  Codley  meant  it  as  an  inducement  to 
him  to  keep  sober.  But  he  also  saw  that  it  hinted 
a  termination  of  their  relationship ;  and  this  wolfish 
business  of  young  Penrose  seemed  necessarily  to 
imply  a  termination  of  the  relationship.  Naturally 
Old  Alphabet  wouldn't  wish  to  be  reminding  him 
self  of  this  little  murder-den  nor  of  the  tool  where 
with  he  had  cut  a  throat  in  it.  Thus  Wogan's  own 
conception  of  his  relationship  with  Codley  under 
went  a  change  during  the  day.  Before,  he  had 
thought  of  it  rather  as  a  partnership  in  which  he 
had  been  simply  the  junior  member.  But  now  the 
superior  villain  towered  above  him,  huge  and  sinister 
and  heartless,  and  he  himself  was  hardly  more  than  a 
dirty  little  puppet  to  be  used  for  a  turn  and  tossed 
aside.  He  felt  this  and  could  make  no  headway 
against  it ;  could  scarcely,  even  to  himself,  protest 
against  it.  The  affair  of  young  Penrose  fixed  the 
terms. 

And  while  this  drama  of  his  own  peril  was  playing 


288  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

itself  out  in  Wogan's  mind,  he  talked  with  Codley, 
smiled,  discussed  plans  and  probabilities.  Old 
Alphabet  was  loafing  up  and  down  the  office  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  when  the  telephone  message 
came ;  and  he  grinned  when  he  thought  that  David's 
wife's  lover  was  fetching  David  in  person. 

"All  the  same,  Wesley,"  he  observed,  amused, 
"we  don't  want  to  forget  that  Donovan  is  a  bright 
man.  Samson  was  all  right,  you  know,  except  for 
his  wife.  David  is  a  bright  man.  Old  Dennis 
trained  him  and  Old  Dennis  has  sat  in  about  all 
the  games  there  are,  first  and  last.  No  rusty  work 
will  go  with  friend  David.  We  must  be  careful 
not  to  try  any.  He  wouldn't  have  bit  at  the  safe- 
deposit  box,  for  example.  He  hasn't  forgotten  what 
was  done  to  the  box  in  the  Fetlock  case.  It's  im 
portant  to  be  fair  and  square  and  above-board  with 
him.  The  boat's  the  thing;  a  pleasant  jaunt  on  the 
lake  —  with  a  warrant  at  the  other  end.  Be  careful 
how  you  talk  to  him."  He  stepped  to  the  door  to 
the  inner  office.  "I'm  going  to  provide  company  for 
you  on  the  boat,  Wesley  —  a  handy  man  with  his 
fist.  Because  I  wouldn't  put  it  beyond  our  impul 
sive  young  Irishman  to  take  the  letters  by  force 
and  chuck  you  over  the  rail.  This  is  the  last  lap  of 
the  race,  you  know.  We  mustn't  stub  our  toe." 
He  smiled  a  little  at  his  own  wit ;  yet  again  Wogan 
seemed  to  see  that  cold,  cynical  glint  in  his  eye. 
He  went  inside,  fixed  the  door  slightly  ajar,  and 
braced  his  foot  against  it. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  289 

When  David  and  Teddie  entered  the  outer  room, 
Wogan  was  sitting  in  the  corner.  He  merely  nodded 
to  them,  without  rising,  and  indicated  two  chairs 
at  the  other  side  of  the  room.  Yet  he  was  aston 
ished.  Penrose  was  not  leading  a  victim,  as  he  had 
expected.  On  the  contrary  David  had  his  hand 
under  Ted's  arm,  supporting  him.  And  Penrose 
looked  half  dead.  He  slipped  limply  into  a  chair; 
sunk  his  face  between  his  hands.  David  stooped 
over  him  a  second,  saying  a  word  under  his  breath ; 
his  strong  hand  lingering  for  a  light,  comforting 
touch  on  the  other's  shoulder.  It  might  have  been 
a  tableau  of  Courage  comforting  Despair.  Wogan 
secretly  quailed  before  it. 

David  stood  upright,  looking  the  lawyer  in  the 
eyes.  He  noticed  that  Wogan's  hand  was  in  his 
coat  pocket;  suspected  it  held  a  pistol;  a  faint, 
contemptuous  smile  shone  in  his  glance. 

"I  want  to  see  this  bill  of  yours,  Wogan/'  he  said 
coolly. 

"On  the  desk,"  said  the  lawyer,  indicating  with  a 
nod  of  his  head,  motionless  otherwise. 

David  saw  it  lying  there ;  picked  it  up ;  stepped  to 
the  window  for  better  light;  read  it  through  de 
liberately.  With  what  Ted  had  told  him  he  saw 
that,  silly  as  it  was  legally,  it  was  still  a  perfect 
instrument  for  blackmail. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  asked. 

"I  want  you  to  go  out  of  town  until  the  case  against 
Allan  Thomas  is  disposed  of,"  the  lawyer  answered. 


290  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

"And  if  I  do?" 

"The  bill  belongs  to  you,  or  is  chucked  in  the  stove, 
as  you  please.  Otherwise  it  goes  on  file,  and  into  the 
newspapers  —  or  one  newspaper  at  least." 

"These  letters  that  you  describe  go  along  with 
the  bill?"  said  David. 

"Yes,"  Wogan  replied. 

David  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  desk.  With 
what  Ted  had  been  able  to  tell  him  and  the  bill  in 
his  hand  he  clearly  comprehended  the  main  features 
of  the  situation.  He  understood  now  that  it  was  the 
threat  of  this  bill  that  had  sent  Frederick  Hasbrook 
to  Europe.  He  saw  also  that  the  letters  with  their 
tell-tale  handwriting  were  all  that  gave  the  bill  a 
deadly  edge.  Yet  on  some  points  he  was  in  the  dark. 
Why  had  Frederick  gone  and  left  the  letters  in 
Wogan's  hands  ?  Could  he  have  been  weak  enough 
to  take  Wogan's  word,  or  Codley's  word  —  for,  of 
course,  the  chief  counsel  of  the  distillers  was  the 
moving  force  in  the  plot?  Probably  he  had  been 
tricked  someway.  Above  all,  David  realized  that 
he  was  entering  a  desperate  game,  with  desperate 
and  cunning  adversaries.  He  didn't  propose  to 
come  out  empty-handed. 

"What  was  your  bargain  with  Fred  Hasbrook?" 
He  shot  the  question  straight  at  Wogan's  head. 

"Hasb rook's  idea  and  ours  was  that  if  he  left  the 
country,  the  Thomas  case  would  be  dropped," 
Wogan  replied. 

It  seemed  improbable  to  David  that  Hasbrook 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  291 

would  have  left  it  in  just  that  way.  However,  there 
was  no  probability  of  proving  it. 

"  Where  did  you  get  the  letters,  Wogan?"  he 
asked. 

The  lawyer  hesitated  a  moment.  The  light  was 
already  thickening  a  little  at  the  edges  of  the  room. 
David,  sitting  on  the  desk,  had  his  back,  or  shoulder, 
to  young  Penrose;  but  Wogan,  in  his  corner,  was 
facing  him.  He  saw  something  uncanny.  Ted's 
hands  fell  from  his  face ;  his  head  lopped  to  one  side ; 
his  limp  body  seemed  to  slip  noiselessly  down  in  the 
chair.  It  might  be  extreme  exhaustion,  but  it  looked 
grewsomely  like  something  else.  His  eyes  turned 
quickly  to  David. 

"From  Fanny  Trescott,"  he  said  promptly. 
"She  got  them  from  her  mother.  The  bill  shows 
that." 

Old  Alphabet,  in  the  next  room,  frowned  and  put 
his  hand  to  his  grizzly  mustache.  The  voice  sounded 
to  him  like  that  of  a  man  being  driven,  giving  ground 
before  a  stronger  antagonist.  He  mentally  cursed 
his  ally. 

"Get  them  out,"  said  David.  "I  want  to  look  at 
them  and  be  sure  they're  genuine.  We  need  more 
light  here."  He  spoke  sharply.  Then  a  shuffling 
sound  and  dull  impact  at  the  side  of  the  room  drew 
his  quick  eye.  Ted  lay  in  a  heap  on  the  floor. 

David  sprang  across  and  knelt  down. 

"He's  dying !"  he  said,  not  loud,  but  as  when  that 
thought  wrings  the  tendons  of  a  stout  heart.  All 


292  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

along  —  while  they  were  in  his  own  office,  and  riding 
over  in  the  cab,  and  when  he  helped  Ted  upstairs  — 
a  certain  aching  fear  of  this  had  lain  in  his  mind. 
It  had  not  yet  occurred  to  him  that  Ted  was  ex 
hausted  by  hunger  and  bodily  exertion,  too ;  and  it 
really  seemed  possible  to  him  that  Ted  was  literally 
dying  under  the  strain,  as  a  sensitive  girl  might 
have  done.  Remorse  stabbed  him.  Why  should  he 
have  stayed  to  quibble  and  fence !  He  slipped  one 
arm  under  Ted's  neck,  the  other  under  his  legs,  and 
arose,  holding  the  limp  burden. 

"Open  the  window/ '  he  commanded,  as  he  started 
for  it. 

The  lawyer,  however,  did  not  stir  —  partly  that 
he  was  immensely  afraid. 

David  opened  the  window  himself,  supporting 
Ted  on  his  bent  knee  and  with  one  arm.  The  waxen 
face  looked  like  death  as  David  bent  over  it,  yet 
breathed.  David  turned  his  head  to  look  at  the 
lawyer. 

" you,  Wogan,  get  a  cup  of  water,"  he  said, 

very  low.  Wogan  obeyed  then;  even  stood  near, 
stolidly,  while  David  douched  Ted's  face  and  held 
the  cup  to  his  lips.  He  was  aware  of  Old  Alphabet 
peeking  in  from  the  other  room,  and  wondered  if 
David,  too,  saw  him.  When  Ted's  lips  moved  and 
his  eyelids  fluttered,  Wogan  went  back  to  his  corner 
and  watched  the  tableau. 

Ted  came  to  himself,  looked  up  at  David,  remem 
bered.  His  weak  lips  twitched. 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  293 

"It's  all  right,  old  man,"  said  David,  bending 
over  him.  "It's  all  fixed.  We'll  get  the  letters. 
Don't  worry.  It's  all  settled."  There  was  a  kind 
of  crooning,  yet  anxious  joy  in  the  low  almost  whis 
pering  tone.  Lying  thus  in  David's  arms,  Ted  looked 
more  than  ever  like  a  girl.  And  David  was  thinking, 
"There's  no  time  to  fence  here !  We  must  take  a 
chance  !" 

Presently  he  helped  Ted  over  to  the  chair,  and  sat 
beside  him,  one  hand  on  his  knee. 

"Of  course,  we  get  the  letters,  Wogan,"  he  said 
quietly.  "What's  your  plan?" 

It  would  have  been  good  policy  to  propose  some 
thing  else  first,  to  lead  around  to  the  real  plan  cir- 
cuitously,  to  let  the  idea  of  the  lake  trip  seem  to  come 
from  David  himself.  Yet  all  Wogan  could  do  now 
was  to  bring  it  out  baldly. 

"You're  under  a  subpoena  to  appear  Monday  morn 
ing,"  he  said.  "If  you  don't  appear,  the  case  must 
be  dropped,  for  you're  the  only  witness.  The  fruit 
boat  leaves  here  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning 
and  goes  down  the  shore  and  gets  to  Chicago  in  the 
evening.  You  and  I  will  take  it.  I'll  have  the 
letters  along.  We'll  go  to  a  hotel  in  Chicago  together 
and  stay  together  until  we  get  word  that  the  Thomas 
case  has  been  disposed  of.  Then  you'll  take  the 
letters  and  walk  out." 

"All  right,"  said  David.  He  added,  "I  shall  want 
to  see  those  letters  in  your  hands,  Wogan,  before  I 
go  aboard  the  boat." 


294  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

"You  shall,"  said  Wogan.  "Penrose  himself  can 
identify  them  if  he  wants  to." 

"Very  good,"  David  replied.  "We'll  meet  you 
at  the  dock  at  three  o'clock." 

"I'll  be  there."  Wogan  stood  up.  The  inter 
view  was  singularly  disagreeable  to  him.  "Under 
stand,  we  stay  together,  but  you  don't  get  the  letters 
until  we  get  word  that  the  case  is  disposed  of.  So 
don't  suggest  to  your  brother-in-law  that  he  have  it 
continued  until  you  get  back." 

"It's  the  last  thing  I'd  think  of,"  David  answered. 
"Come  on,  Teddie." 

When  the  outer  door  closed  upon  the  visitors, 
Mr.  Codley  did  not  at  once  emerge  from  the  inner 
room,  nor  did  Wogan  to  go  him.  The  latter,  staring 
at  the  wall,  drifted  a  moment  in  a  confused  dream. 
Old  Alphabet's  faculties  were  more  profitably  em 
ployed.  He  was  thinking  very  clear  and  practical 
thoughts.  Wesley's  hand  seemed  to  be  getting  a 
bit  fumbly.  The  older  man's  brow  was  serene, 
however,  as  he  stepped  into  the  outer  room. 

"Well,  we've  pulled  it  off  very  neatly  —  so  far," 
he  commented  cheerfully.  It  was  getting  rather 
dark  now,  so  he  need  not  be  at  any  trouble  to  hide 
the  cynical  glint  in  his  eyes.  "The  man  I  mentioned 
to  you  —  Mulholland  —  will  be  down  here  on  the 
half-past  nine  train.  He's  a  first-rate  man  —  got 
shoulders  like  an  ox  and  hands  like  hams ;  good  head 
on  him,  too.  He'll  be  loafing  near  by  when  you 
show  David  the  letters  on  the  dock,  and'll  keep 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  295 

watch  on  the  boat.  I'll  take  the  early  train  for 
Chicago  and  be  there  in  time  to  arrange  a  little  recep 
tion  committee  for  David  when  he  lands.  These 
black-haired  Irish  are  bad  citizens  when  they  get 
started.  I  think  it  would  be  just  as  well  if,  when  you 
get  on  the  boat  —  or,  say,  after  the  boat  leaves 
St.  Joe  —  you  just  slip  the  letters  over  to  Mulhol- 
land." 

"I  can  keep  them/7  said  Wogan. 

Codley  was  a  little  startled  —  as  when  a  sleepy  cat 
suddenly  scratches.  Wogan  himself  was  a  little 
startled.  He  felt  himself  being  helplessly  elbowed 
out  —  and  suddenly  scratched. 

"Just  as  you  like,"  Codley  answered  suavely. 
The  game  was  not  yet  played  out ;  the  pawn  must 
move  once  more.  "I  suggested  it  for  your  benefit. 
Don't  let  friend  David  get  too  chummy  with  you  in  a 
lonely  spot  on  the  boat,  though."  He  softly  cleared 
his  throat.  "Bring  the  letters  up  to  me  at  the  hotel. 
You've  done  the  job  to  the  queen's  taste,  Wesley," 
he  added  genially.  "There'll  be  a  check  for  five 
thousand  waiting  for  you  to-morrow." 

For  a  moment  the  figure  loomed  large  in  Wogan's 
imagination.  "I  can  use  it,"  he  said  with  a  nervous 
laugh. 

"It'll  give  you  a  good  stake,  Wesley,"  said  Old 
Alphabet.  He  was  quite  philanthropic  when  it 
did  not  interfere  with  his  other  interests.  "Let 
me  give  you  a  word  of  advice  with  it,  my  son.  Cut 
out  the  booze."  He  paused  an  instant  and  added, 


296  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

"Especially  the  next  twenty-four  hours."  He  did 
not  mean  it  with  any  particular  unkindness. 

To  Wogan  it  was  like  a  kick.  It  suddenly  re- 
erected  his  degradation  before  him  —  with  Old 
Alphabet  calmly  pointing  at  it.  "For  the  next 
twenty-four  hours !"  So,  after  he  had  turned  this 
trick  for  his  employer  he  might  go  to  the  devil  on 
his  own  terms !  He  said  nothing ;  and  it  occurred 
to  Codley  that  he  had  made  another  small  mistake  — 
as  in  suggesting  that  Mulholland  take  the  letters. 
However,  the  game  was  almost  completely  in  his 
own  hands. 

"Well,  suppose  we  get  dinner,"  he  suggested 
coolly.  "You'll  want  to  get  a  nighty  and  tooth 
brush,  I  suppose.  Mulholland  will  look  for  us  at 
the  hotel.  If  I  were  you,  Wesley,  I'd  get  a  little 
sleep.  You  won't  have  another  chance  until  Sun 
day  night." 

"I  guess  I'll  do  that,"  Wogan  answered  flatly. 

Some  four  hours  later  he  was  saying  to  himself, 
"Yes,  what  I  want  is  some  sleep !  It's  certainly 
sleep  that  I'm  after!"  He  was  sitting,  in  night 
shirt  and  trousers,  at  the  window  of  a  room  in  the 
Sauganac  House.  The  room  was  dark;  but  he 
looked  down  at  the  twinkling  lights  of  the  town,  out 
at  the  clear  night,  and  a  rout  of  merry  devils  danced 
through  his  fiery  brain.  He  had  played  it  cute  !  At 
nine  o'clock  he  had  gone  to  bed,  rising  later  when 
Codley  knocked,  and  shaking  hands  with  Mr.  Mul 
holland  —  that  he  might  identify  him  —  through 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  297 

the  quarter-open  door.  Then  he  had  run  to  the 
partition  and  listened  until  he  was  assured  that 
Old  Alphabet  and  the  "private  detective"  were  safe 
in  the  next  room.  He  could  even  hear  the  drone 
of  their  voices.  So  he  put  on  trousers,  shoes,  and 
coat  —  the  collar  of  which  he  turned  up ;  and  went 
down  the  back  stairs  and  found  Bill  Bailey,  the  bil 
liard-room  attendant.  He  could  trust  Bill  Bailey. 
He  was  back  in  his  room  again  in  three  minutes  — 
noiseless  and  safe  !  —  and  burning,  quivering,  agape 
with  thirst.  Good  Bill  Bailey  silently  slipped  the 
flask  through  the  door.  The  third  of  it  was  hot  in 
Wogan's  stomach  now,  and  the  little  devils  danced 
merrily ! 

Codley  proposed  to  watch  him  !  Codley  proposed 
to  see  that  he  didn't  take  a  drink  that  night !  Cod- 
ley  was  going  to  throw  him  over,  with  the  little  five 
thousand !  Codley  would  find  that  he  had  Wesley 
Wogan  to  deal  with  !  His  mind  dilated  with  a  sense 
of  power.  He  wouldn't  give  Codley  the  letters  at  all. 
He'd  think  up  a  way  to  do  him  out  of  the  five  thou 
sand  and  keep  the  letters  himself.  Or  he'd  let  Codley 
go  to  the  deuce  and  get  fifty  thousand  for  the  letters. 
The  thoughts  ran  warm  through  his  brain.  Yet  he 
was  not  drunk.  He  could  pull  himself  up  and  think 
connectedly;  walk  and  talk  as  sober  as  a  judge. 
He  was  not  drunk  —  yet.  It  was  only  a  pleasant, 
warming  fire  —  as  yet ;  not  the  conflagration  that 
would  come  later.  He  bent  to  the  dim  light  of  the 
window  and  examined  his  watch.  He  must  keep 


298  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

himself  well  in  hand.  In  time  he  must  souse  himself 
well  in  the  tub  and  eat  some  breath-killers,  to  appear 
on  the  dock  in  good  shape.  And  all  the  while  that 
beefy  ass  Mulholland  would  probably  be  lurking  in 
the  corridor,  watching  his  door!  Wesley  Wogan 
was  no  fool! 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

LEAVING  Wogan's  office,  David's  immediate  anxi 
ety  was  for  his  charge.  Ted  was  alarmingly  white 
and  weak.  David  helped  him  into  the  cab. 

"It's  all  fixed  now,  you  know,  Teddie,"  he  said. 
"The  trouble  is  all  over.  Don't  worry  any  more. 
But  you  must  brace  up,  old  man.  I'll  want  you  to 
help  me  a  bit  later  on.  See  here,  we  must  have 
some  dinner.  You  mustn't  let  go,  you  know." 

"Yes.     All  right,"  said  Ted. 

David  told  the  cabman  to  drive  to  a  little  German 
restaurant.  He  felt  that  Ted  wouldn't  want  to  go 
to  the  hotel  where  many  who  knew  him  would  see 
him.  So  Ted,  anxiously  but  furtively  watched  by 
David,  ate  something  —  broth  and  bread  and  a  cup 
of  coffee.  It  replenished  his  bodily  strength. 

"I  want  you  to  come  to  the  hotel  and  lie  down  a 
while,  old  man,"  said  David.  "We've  got  a  night 
ride  ahead,  you  know ;  and  I  want  you  to  be  fit." 

"Yes.     All  right,"  Ted  replied. 

He  suffered  David  to  take  him  to  the  hotel,  put 
him  in  a  room.  He  took  off  his  coat  and  shoes,  as 
David  advised,  like  a  sick  but  obedient  child,  and 
lay  down  on  the  bed.  As  his  weary  body  met  its 
supporting  softness  he  felt  as  though  he  were  physi- 

299 


300  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

cally  dissolving.  He  lay  stretched  out,  lax,  power 
less;  his  mind  itself  washed  out,  flaccid,  empty  of 
thought  or  emotion.  There  was  no  sleep  in  this 
void.  He  vaguely  felt  that  he  would  never  sleep 
again ;  but  the  lids  drooped  over  the  weary  eyes. 

David  watched  him,  approving.  This  rest  would 
do  him  good.  "Ted,  I  want  you  to  lie  quite  still 
for  an  hour  or  so,"  he  said;  "not  to  try  to  get  up, 
you  know  —  while  I  run  up  to  the  house.  Will 
you  do  that?" 

Ted  faintly  nodded,  still  like  a  sick  but  obedient 
child. 

David  had  to  satisfy  himself  with  that  assent.  "I 
won't^be  very  long,"  he  said  assuringly ;  and  slipped 
quietly  out  of  the  room.  In  the  corridor  he  hur 
ried.  Stepping  briskly  out  of  the  elevator  into  the 
office  almost  the  first  thing  he  saw  was  Codley's 
lank,  stooping  back.  The  old  practitioner  stood 
at  the  desk,  telephoning.  Wogan  sat  near  by, 
looking  thoughtfully  at  the  floor. 

The  sight  of  them  imparted  a  shock  to  David's 
nerves  —  although  it  was  quite  a  matter  of  course 
that  they  should  be  there.  He  hesitated  an  in 
stant.  But  he  had  to  see  Louise.  So  he  crossed 
the  office  swiftly,  keeping  the  tail  of  his  eye  upon 
the  enemy,  and  got  out  without  their  seeing  him.  He 
heard  a  street-car  passing,  and  took  to  his  heels 
at  top  speed,  going  diagonally  across  the  little  park 
in  order  to  catch  the  car. 

It  was  half-past  eight  now,  and  dark.     He  noticed 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  301 

the  hour  by  an  illuminated  street-clock  as  he  leapt 
on  the  moving  car.  He  was  profoundly  anxious 
about  Teddie.  A  man  in  that  state  might  do  some 
thing  rash ;  at  least,  he  couldn't  stand  much  more. 
The  notion  of  Codley  and  Wogan  under  the  same 
roof  with  him  was  disturbing  —  the  nosing  dogs  so 
close  to  the  spent  quarry.  And  under  this  cloud 
of  anxiety  his  mind  was  desperately  busy  with  the 
game  in  which  he  was  engaged.  It  was  a  desperate 
game.  They  would  trick  him  if  they  could  —  and 
come  upon  Ted  afresh.  The  thought  of  that  other 
quarry  —  the  beautiful,  imperious  woman  —  was  in 
his  mind,  also.  She  wasn't  exactly  his  princess; 
but  against  these  obscene  beasts  he  was  abundantly 
ready  to  fight  for  her  all  he  knew.  They  had  some 
how  overthrown  Frederick  Hasbrook,  so  he  was  the 
only  able-bodied  man  left;  there  was  only  his  arm 
between  the  wolves  and  the  victims. 

He  was  willingly  caught  in  the  powerful  drag  of 
the  drama  that  was  sweeping  to  a  climax ;  and  with 
a  very  practical  capacity  he  was  intently  consider 
ing  ways  and  means.  He  might  get  a  chance  at  the 
letters  on  the  dock  when  Wogan  showed  them  —  a 
leap  and  a  grab ;  perhaps  a  blow  and  a  man  in  the 
water.  He  wouldn't  in  the  least  have  minded  that. 
If  not  there,  then  somewhere  on  the  boat.  He 
speculated  as  to  whether  Wogan  would  take  a  state 
room  and  how  it  would  be  locked.  He  would  look 
to  that.  A  door  might  yield  to  the  heavy  impact 
of  a  shoulder.  His  feeling  for  the  man  Wogan  was 


302  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

hardly  more  human  than  that  of  a  dog  for  a  rat.  In 
proportion  as  he  felt  the  diabolical  cruelty  that  had 
been  practised  upon  Ted  he  also  felt  a  desire  to  shake 
the  rat. 

The  car  made  a  second  turn  and  he  looked  up 
mechanically.  His  house  was  little  more  than  a 
square  away  now.  He  tried  to  change  the  strong 
current  of  his  mind  and  think  of  Louise.  He  com 
prehended  that  it  was  going  to  be  a  bad  disappoint 
ment  to  her  —  his  going  off  this  way  and  taking  a 
large  chance  of  failing  in  the  matter  of  testifying  for 
Winthrop.  He  had  comprehended  that  back  there 
in  his  office,  when  from  Teddie's  pale  lips  he  heard 
Wogan's  terms.  But,  finally,  a  man  couldn't  con 
trol  fate.  He  signalled  the  conductor,  and  stood  up, 
to  drop  from  the  car.  Even  then  it  was  sharply 
in  his  mind  that  he  must  not  be  long  away  from  Ted. 

Louise  was  waiting  —  waiting.  She  had  kept 
dinner  past  the  hour ;  finally  tasted  a  little  of  it  her 
self.  She  was  in  the  sitting  room  now,  with  a  book 
in  her  lap  which,  however,  she  could  not  open.  All 
day,  in  spite  of  her  will,  a  secret,  sad  anxiety  had 
pressed  against  her  mind.  It  was  the  last  business 
day  before  the  trial.  Sunday  she  would  have  him 
near  her;  Monday  morning  go  with  him  to  the 
Court  House. 

She  helplessly  fell  back  again  and  again  to  the 
thought  that  he  was  going  to  do  it  simply  to  please 
her ;  not  because  his  soul  cleaved  to  the  truth.  This 
motive  was  not  strong  enough.  The  thought  of 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  303 

Frederick  Hasbrook's  degradation  tormented  her. 
Oh,  for  a  vessel  among  these  men  into  which  she 
might  pour  her  own  great  passion  for  righteous 
ness  !  Many  times  that  day,  with  a  sudden  yearning 
heart-ache,  she  wished  mightily  to  hasten  to  David, 
to  sit  beside  him,  be  near  in  case  that  temptation 
to  which  he  was  so  light-heartedly  blind  should  come. 

She  hardly  expected  him  before  six ;  yet  from  five 
she  walked  restlessly  about  the  ragged  yard,  stood 
at  the  gate  looking  down  the  street.  Dinner  time 
came.  The  world  began  to  darken.  The  shadows 
crept  into  her  fighting  breast.  It  grew  dark.  The 
hurrying,  mechanical  little  ticks  of  the  clock  beat, 
beat  upon  her  pulses.  She  looked  at  the  telephone 
minutes  long,  and  it  seemed  that  by  force  sheerly  of 
her  intense  craving  it  must  begin  to  ring;  his  voice 
must  sound  over  the  wire  explaining  that  some  mere 
business  detail  had  delayed  him.  Then  the  silence 
of  the  instrument  suddenly  became  ominous,  fateful. 

She  built  up  numberless  reasons  why  he  had  been 
detained  here  or  there ;  and  the  little,  painfully 
made  structures  crumbled  away.  He  had  never  once 
stayed  so  late  without  sending  her  word.  Why 
should  he  do  it  on  this  day?  What  business  save 
one  could  keep  him  now?  Her  fear  reacted  upon 
itself.  .  .  .  Perhaps  he  had  gone.  .  .  . 

She  heard  his  quick,  firm  tread  on  the  porch,  and 
he  stepped  through  the  door  as  she  arose. 

" They've  upset  us,  Loie.  I've  got  to  go  to  Chi 
cago  to-night/7  he  said  hurriedly,  as  he  came  to  her. 


304  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

She  knew  his  arm  went  round  her  waist ;  his  hand 
touched  her  shoulder.  He  saw  her  pale,  suffering 
face,  and  with  a  simple  instinct  kissed  her  brow.  "I 
came  up  to  tell  you  about  it."  His  mind  was  still 
full  in  the  drag  and  sweep  of  the  other  drama,  to 
which  this  was  only  a  by-play. 

The  very  manner  in  which  he  entered  the  room ; 
his  hurry  —  this  businesslike  briskness ;  his  cock 
sure  approach;  the  very  state  in  which  he  so  ob 
viously  was,  struck  upon  her  deeply  laboring  spirit 
like  an  insult;  contemned  and  cast  aside  her  pro 
found  anxiety  —  at  the  same  time  that  his  lips 
assured  her  that  her  cruelest  fear  was  realized. 
A  sort  of  wrath,  so  big  that  it  was  impersonal, 
uprose. 

With  deliberate  movements  her  left  hand  lifted 
his  right  from  her  shoulder  and  her  right  hand  clasped 
his  left  wrist,  disengaged  his  encircling  arm,  pushed 
it  back  to  his  side.  He  saw  a  very  strange  little 
smile  draw  her  mouth  obliquely. 

"My  soldier  is  deserting/'  she  said,  low  and 
slowly. 

He  was  simply  disconcerted.  He  knew  she  would 
be  badly  disappointed ;  but  under  the  overwhelming 
motive  that  animated  him  he  had  not  thought  she 
would  take  it  like  this. 

"Why  — hardly  that,  Lou,"  he  said.  "Only 
something  quite  new  has  come  up.  I  came  to  tell 
you." 

"Something  new?"  she  answered.     "Has  Win- 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  305 

throp  dropped  the  case,  then  ?  Has  he  cancelled  the 
subpoena?  Has  he  released  you  from  the  obliga 
tion  to  testify?" 

"  Of  course  Winthrop  has  done  nothing  of  the  sort," 
he  said  with  a  slight  frown.  "Nor  isn't  likely  to. 
He  still  expects  me  to  testify." 

"Then  so  do  I,"  she  said.  "Is  there  the  smallest 
possibility  that  you  didn't  understand  that?  Did 
I  leave  you  the  least  room  for  misunderstanding? 
Wasn't  the  one  only  thing  made  clear?" 

"I  seem  to  understand  it,"  he  murmured.  He  was 
looking  with  a  kind  of  wonder  at  a  strange  woman  — 
the  woman  with  the  sword  and  balance.  The  sword 
seemed  to  him  tin,  the  balance  an  ancient  stage 
property. 

"Of  course,  if  there  can  be  one  only  thing  —  be 
tween  us,  Lou"  — 

He  broke  off,  groping  for  better  words ;  still  look 
ing  at  her  with  all  his  eyes. 

In  his  wonder  a  great  and  clear  thought  was  shap 
ing  itself.  He  now  knew  perfectly  that  the  pro- 
foundest  need  of  his  soul  was  not  that  he  testify  in 
a  certain  arson  case,  but  that  he  help  the  poor 
broken  friend  who  appealed  so  overwhelmingly  to 
his  pity.  What,  to  him,  was  most  precious  in  life 
called  aloud.  He  seemed  to  hear  the  voice  of  his 
gods — against  the  voice  of  this  alien  woman  demand 
ing  that  he  fulfil  the  letter  of  his  pledge  to  her. 
Suddenly  he  asked  himself  whether  they  could  un 
derstand  each  other. 


306  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

He  tried  to  assert  his  will ;  to  reach  across  and  get 
again  close  to  her  side  as  they  had  seemed  to  be 
before. 

"Let  me  tell  you  the  whole  story  —  just  what's 
come  up/7  he  said.  "I'll  leave  it  to  you  yourself 
to  judge,  Lou." 

She  bent  a  little  toward  him.  "Remember  just 
what  you  are  saying,  David/'  she  answered  quickly. 
"  Remember  just  what  you  say.  You  will  leave  it  to 
me  to  judge." 

There  was  a  note  of  eagerness,  of  triumph,  in  her 
voice  —  and  in  spite  of  himself  this  was  painful  and 
hateful  to  him.  It  sounded  of  Winthrop  and  all 
the  narrow,  literal,  white-blooded  folk.  His  call 
sounded  clear.  His  soul  stood  up. 

"I  misspoke,  Lou.  I  must  take  it  back,"  he  said. 
"I  cannot  leave  it  even  to  you.  Not  even  you  can 
answer  for  me.  I  must  answer  for  myself.  I  shall 
go  ahead  as  I  intended."  He  spoke  low ;  but  looked 
her  in  the  eye.  A  slight  pause  followed.  "Now, 
Loie,  I'll  tell  you  the  story  —  if  you  like,"  he  added. 
Even  to  himself  it  sounded  futile,  and  at  the  moment 
he  was  aware  of  a  repugnance  against  telling  her  the 
story,  as  though  it  would  be  a  sort  of  prostitution  of 
Teddie's  anguish  and  his  own  generosity. 

"Why  should  I  wish  to  hear  it?"  she  answered. 
"You  are  honor-bound.  If  some  price  or  other  has 
been  offered  you,  why  should  that  interest  me? 
Understand  me,  David.  I  stand  squarely  upon 
your  pledge.  Nothing  else  will  satisfy  me.  Tell 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  307 

the  story  or  not,  as  you  please.  It  is  immaterial 
to  me.  All  that  I  ask  of  you,  you  can  fulfil  at  nine 
o'clock  Monday  morning.  Nothing  else  will  answer. 
Make  no  mistake  about  that,  David." 

In  the  little  silence  that  followed  the  image  in  her 
mind  was  of  degraded  Frederick  Hasbrook;  the 
image  in  his  mind  was  of  broken  Teddie  Penrose. 

And  just  one  thing  was  all  that  she  asked  of  him  — 
all,  out  of  the  whole  round  of  his  being,  that  inter 
ested  his  wife?  She  simply  set  him  a  stunt  to  do, 
like  leaping  among  the  lions  for  her  glove. 

"You  give  me  a  difficult  hand  to  play,  my  girl," 
he  said  quietly.  "I'll  do  my  best  to  satisfy  you  — 
at  nine  o'clock  Monday  morning." 

She  would  have  asked  him  why  he  went  away  if  he 
really  wished  to  do  his  best ;  but  she  was  still  armed, 
cap-b-pie,  in  that  great,  fairly  impersonal  wrath 
against  all  shuffling  and  truckling  and  compromise. 
The  supreme  stake  lay  bright  and  clear  before  her 
eyes. 

"If  you  choose  to  leave  it  that  way,  David,"  she 
replied.  "I  shall  be  in  court  at  nine  o'clock." 

His  upright  spirit  and  his  fond  heart  were  both  in 
dignant.  His  wounded  pride  said,  "Fulfil  the  pledge 
then ;  do  the  stunt  she  sets  you !"  Nevertheless  he 
tried  again  to  assert  his  affection;  to  resolve  this 
alien,  judging  woman  back  into  the  dear  wife. 

"Loie!"  he  burst  forth,  "we're  making  an  awful 
mistake  to  leave  it  this  way.  Why  should  you  be 
setting  me  stunts  to  do?  You  married  me.  Con- 


308  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

sider  that  I,  too,  have  a  soul  —  such  as  it  is.  I  tell 
you  I'm  doing  this  because  I  believe  it  to  be  right. 
And  I  may  not  be  able  to  get  back  in  time.  We're 
making  a  mistake." 

It  shook  her  armor,  but  did  not  pierce  it. 

"We,  David?"  she  replied,  with  a  relentless  em 
phasis  on  the  pronoun.  "The  way  lies  perfectly 
clear  and  straight  if  you  wish  to  follow  it.  You  are 
not  handcuffed.  No  one  can  compel  you  to  go  out 
of  town  —  if  you  really,  in  your  heart  of  hearts,  wish 
to  stay.  Oh,  no,  David !  Don't  deceive  yourself. 
You  are  making  a  deliberate  choice.  Isn't  that 
true?" 

"Perfectly  true,"  he  said.  He  felt  it,  also,  a  final 
truth.  He  was  making  a  deliberate  choice ;  while 
she  simply  demanded  something  else  that  he  had 
solemnly  pledged  himself  to  do.  His  motive  might 
or  might  not  be  acceptable  to  her.  Both  heard  the 
clock  in  the  dining  room  chiming  the  hour. 

"At  nine  o'clock  Monday,  then,"  he  said.  "I'll  do 
my  stunt  for  you  if  I  can." 

He  turned  and  walked  out. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

PASSING  through  the  gate  in  the  picket-fence  David 
looked  back  over  his  shoulder  —  at  the  ragged  yard, 
the  little  old-fashioned  house  with  its  fret-sawed 
porch  and  the  lighted  living-room  windows.  It 
assailed  his  heart.  He  had  gone  to  his  wife  in  the 
rush  of  a  brave  and  generous  motive.  In  that  hour 
of  his  need  she  had  denied  him.  He  could  not  help 
a  humiliation,  deep,  searching,  and  sad.  He  felt 
obscurely  that  he  was  already  defeated. 

But  there  was  no  time  now.  There  had  never 
been  the  slightest  doubt  in  his  mind  as  to  what  he 
ought  to  do ;  and  he  was  going  ahead  to  do  it. 
Louise  had  made  his  difficult  part  still  more  difficult. 
He  simply  bowed  his  shoulders  to  the  increased  load 
and  hurried  on. 

He  found  Ted  lying  down,  just  as  he  had  left  him ; 
spoke  to  him  cheerfully ;  took  a  seat  and  kept  still, 
hoping  the  patient  would  sleep.  At  midnight  he 
ordered  something  to  eat. 

Ted  sat  up  and  showed  some  relish  for  the  food. 
Indeed,  after  he  had  eaten  and  drunk  the  coffee  he 
felt  much  restored  physically,  able  to  stand  erect 
and  walk  firmly  again.  But  his  mind  was  singu 
larly  dead. 

309 


310  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

"We  aren't  quite  out  of  the  woods  yet,  you  know, 
Teddie,"  David  suggested  gently.  "They're  not 
above  fooling  us  if  they  get  the  chance.  The  trick 
is  to  get  the  letters  from  Wogan  as  soon  as  possible. " 

"That's  so,  Davy,"  Ted  responded.  He  under 
stood  clearly  what  David  said  and  meant;  com 
prehended  perfectly  that  the  affair  was  not  ended; 
that  there  was  still  great  danger  ahead  of  them. 
But  he  could  not  rouse  himself ;  couldn't  whet  him 
self  to  any  edge.  While  his  brain  understood,  his 
deeper  faculties  lay  dull  and  blank. 

His  pulses  throbbed  a  little  when  David  put  out 
the  light  and  they  left  the  room;  but  even  then 
his  spirit  was  flat.  He  wished  to  say  something  to 
David  —  to  the  friend  who  was  doing  so  much  so 
generously ;  but  he  could  have  spoken  only  with  his 
lips.  David  himself  was  silent  as  they  trudged 
through  the  office  and  down  the  street  toward  the 
dock.  His  muscles  were  ready  for  the  action ;  but 
his  nerves  were  quiet.  Deep  within  him  he  felt  that 
a  great  defeat  had  overtaken  him. 

An  arc  lamp  on  a  pole  illuminated  the  dock.  Be 
yond,  the  cold  dead  dark  lay  thick  and  damp  over 
the  lake.  The  heavy,  tublike  fruit  steamer  was 
alongside.  Men  were  trundling  crates  of  grapes  into 
her  hold  —  trudging  across  the  dock  with  their  noisy 
barrows  in  monotonous  regularity.  David  looked 
about.  Evidently  Wogan  was  not  yet  here.  He 
noticed  the  boat's  captain  sitting  on  an  upturned 
keg  at  the  side  of  the  dock,  gossiping  with  a  stranger. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  311 

As  David's  eye  fell  upon  the  stranger  it  caught  a 
look  in  return  —  a  look  that  seemed  to  have  some 
thing  personal  in  it.  The  stranger  was  a  man  of 
massive  build,  with  huge  shoulders  and  great  hands 
that  were  now  bent  over  his  knees.  He  wore  a  short, 
thick  black  mustache  and  had  prominent  pale  blue 
eyes.  Altogether  his  appearance  strongly  sug 
gested  a  bulldog ;  and  it  struck  David  that  the  look 
with  which  the  stranger  was  favoring  him  was  sin 
gularly  like  that  with  which  one  of  those  animals 
measures  an  antagonist.  He  glanced  at  his  watch ; 
then,  with  Teddie  beside  him,  paced  to  the  end  of 
the  dock  where  they  stood  looking  out  into  the  heavy, 
wet  dark.  He  was  carrying  his  light  overcoat  on 
his  arm.  Beneath  their  feet  the  water  lapped  softly 
at  the  planking.  The  rumble  of  the  loaded  trucks 
behind  them  scarcely  disturbed  the  immense  still 
ness.  They  plainly  heard  the  clatter  of  horses' 
hoofs  up  on  Broadway,  and  by  the  sound  accurately 
followed  the  course  of  the  carriage,  down  to  the 
board  roadway  which  led  to  the  dock. 

"Take  my  coat,  Teddie,"  David  whispered,  and 
slipped  the  garment  to  his  companion's  arm  — 
clearing  his  body  for  action.  He  turned,  paced 
back  a  few  steps,  and  stood  in  the  strong  light  with 
his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  undercoat.  He  saw 
the  carriage  drawn  up,  broadside  on,  at  the  end  of  the 
board  roadway ;  saw  Wogan  walking  away  from  it. 
But  he  noticed  that  the  carriage  did  not  move. 
"Codley's  in  there  to  see  the  end  of  the  play," 


312  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

he  thought;  and  he  wondered,  with  taut  nerves, 
whether  Codley  was  going  to  see  Wogan  go  over 
board. 

Wogan  came  forward  alone;  nodded  to  David 
when  some  distance  away.  David  saw  him  give  a 
quick  look  about.  Then  the  stranger  rose  from 
beside  the  captain,  yawned,  and  walked  across  the 
dock.  A  suspicion  that  this  bulldog  stranger  was 
in  the  play  struck  David. 

Wogan  looked  at  his  watch;  spoke  cheerfully 
to  the  captain:  "Ten  minutes  yet?"  The  captain 
glanced  around  at  the  pile  of  crates.  "  About  that," 
he  said;  and  called,  " Rustle  up,  now!"  The  men 
with  the  trucks  began  to  trot.  Wogan  glanced  at 
David  and  took  the  empty  nail  keg  beside  the  cap 
tain.  Half  a  dozen  passengers  off  a  night  street-car 
that  had  stopped  at  the  corner  came  hurrying  strag- 
glingly  down.  David  waited.  The  last  crate  was 
shot  into  the  hold,  and  men  began  pulling  in  that 
gang-plank.  The  captain  arose  and  walked  aboard 
forward.  Wogan  got  up  briskly  and  stepped  back  — 
as  though  he  did  not  like  to  be  so  near  the  water 
without  company. 

"All  right,  Wogan,"  said  David;  and  turned  and 
beckoned  to  Ted.  He  noticed  that  the  carriage  was 
still  waiting.  - 

Wogan  stepped  under  the  light  in  the  centre  of  the 
dock.  The  massive  stranger  strolled  from  the  other 
end  of  the  dock  as  though  he  were  going  aboard ;  but 
paused,  apparently  lost  in  thought.  Ted  came  up. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  313 

"Suppose  you  stand  there,"  said  Wogan.  He 
took  the  letters  from  his  pocket,  his  shoulder  to  Ted 
and  David.  The  human  bulldog,  apparently  lost  in 
thought,  stood  three  feet  away,  and  in  front  of  the 
group,  holding  a  stout  walking-stick  by  the  small 
end  in  his  large  right  hand  and  swinging  it  a  little, 
reflectively.  In  that  position  a  good  man  should 
be  able  to  crack  a  skull  in  a  twinkling. 

Wogan  unfolded  the  letters  one  by  one  and  held 
them  up.  Both  David  and  Ted  thought  them  genu 
ine.  David  kept  close  to  the  lawyer  as  they  walked 
aboard,  and  the  muscular  stranger  kept  close  to  him. 
They  went  up  into  the  stuffy  little  cabin  and  sat  down 
in  a  row.  The  boat  started.  David  was  close  at 
Wogan's  side.  The  lawyer  turned  his  head  to  speak 
to  him. 

"I've  engaged  a  stateroom,"  he  said.  "I'm 
going  to  lie  down." 

David  did  not  answer;  but  his  heart  leapt.  He 
had  caught  a  peculiar  odor.  "So!  Wogan's  drink 
ing  again  !  That  ought  to  help  !"  he  thought.  He 
sat  by  while  Wogan  disappeared  into  the  stateroom. 
Then  he  gave  Ted  a  significant  glance.  "I'll  take 
a  turn  about,"  he  observed  and  arose.  The  detec 
tive,  sitting  directly  opposite  Wogan's  stateroom 
door,  looked  up  at  him  with  pale,  dull,  bull-doggy 
eyes. 

This  lumbering  fruit  boat  was  furnished  with  only 
a  dozen  staterooms,  for  it  carried  few  passengers. 
David  found  from  the  purser  that  the  six  on  Wogan's 


314  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

side  were  taken.  But  there  was  one  on  the  other  side 
which  he  engaged.  Alone  in  it  he  examined  the 
fastenings.  There  were  two  outer  doors  —  one  of 
solid  plank,  the  other  of  stout  slats,  both  with  good 
locks.  The  door  to  the  cabin  was  of  solid  board, 
secured  by  an  ordinary  lock  and  a  strong  bolt.  A 
man  might  break  it  with  a  crowbar;  but  it  would 
take  a  little  time.  Of  course,  the  bulldog  would  be 
watching.  By  now  David's  brain  was  wholly  busy 
with  the  problem  before  him.  He  was  ready,  even 
keen  for  it.  But  behind  this  mental  activity  he 
vaguely  felt  a  void. 

The  problem  was  not  easy.  Yet  Wogan  was  drink 
ing  ;  the  other  was  a  mere  hired  thug.  He  and  Ted 
—  or,  rather,  he  for  Ted  —  were  playing  for  an 
immense  stake.  Somewhere  or  other  the  lesser  men 
would  slip ;  glance  aside ;  relax  their  guard  —  and 
then! 

The  plan  was  to  let  Ted  keep  an  eye  on  the  thug, 
while  David  stalked  and  crouched,  waiting  for  the 
opening.  Presently  he  called  Ted  into  the  state 
room  ;  let  him  out  by  the  outer  door ;  led  him  around 
to  the  stern  of  the  boat  where  he  could  sit  comfort 
ably  beside  a  window  and  have  the  cabin  under  his 
eye,  including  the  thug  and  Wogan's  stateroom  door. 
He  himself  watched  the  outer  door  of  Wogan's  room 
from  a  position  by  the  rail  and  opposite  the  narrow 
passage  that  led  to  the  cabin.  Thus,  if  he  saw  the 
door  opening,  he  could  dodge  in  and  hide. 

The  tubby  boat  churned  on  in  the  dark.     It  was 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  315 

cold.  Now  and  again  the  form  of  his  wife  rose  up  in 
David's  mind  —  slim  and  beautiful  and  separated 
from  him.  He  thrust  it  resolutely  down  into  that 
void  which  he  felt  to  be  under  his  surface  activity. 
His  business  now  was  to  watch  this  door.  In  the 
dank,  mournful  gray  of  earliest  dawn  they  made  the 
next  port;  took  on  more  fruit.  This  involved  a 
shifting  of  their  positions,  for  the  thug  got  up  and 
walked  about.  But  when  the  boat  got  out  in  the 
lake  again,  they  were  posited  just  as  before.  The 
sun  was  well  up  when  they  lumbered  into  the 
harbor  at  St.  Joseph;  and  they  lay  here  an  hour. 
A  score  of  passengers  came  aboard.  The  bulldog 
paced  the  cabin ;  even  stuck  his  nose  outside  several 
times.  David  and  Ted  kept  out  of  his  sight. 

As  the  boat  paddled  away  from  the  dock  David 
noticed  that  it  was  half-past  eight,  and  a  very  beauti 
ful  Sunday  morning.  The  boat  was  fairly  populous 
now.  Two  girls  had  taken  possession  of  the  wheezy 
organ  in  the  cabin  and  were  performing  "  Nearer 
My  God  to  Thee"  with  very  indifferent  success. 
It  seemed  to  distress  the  detective.  The  next  stop 
was  Chicago.  This  was  the  last  leg  of  the  race ;  the 
last  turn  of  the  wheel. 

David  and  Ted  came  out  of  the  stateroom  as 
though  they  had  just  arisen.  David  nodded  amiably 
to  the  thug.  "  Aren't  you  going  to  get  some  break 
fast?"  he  asked,  as  though  the  joke  were  under 
stood  between  them. 

The  man  eyed  him  a  moment  with   a  kind  of 


316  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

suspicion.  "I  believe  I  will,"  he  answered  gravely, 
and  went  over  and  knocked  on  Wogan's  door.  He 
talked  to  him  a  moment  through  the  door,  David 
and  Ted  standing  good-naturedly  by.  Two  or 
three  minutes  elapsed  before  the  lawyer  emerged. 
The  moment  David  saw  him  he  felt  better.  He 
judged  that  Wogan  had  not  been  to  bed  and  that 
he  had  had  the  company  of  a  bottle.  The  four  went 
down  to  the  rather  greasy  dining  room  together. 
After  breakfast  they  went  to  the  stern  on  the  lower 
deck.  David  and  the  bulldog  smoked;  even  ex 
changed  a  few  observations,  as  that  it  was  a  fine 
day  and  the  boat  was  slow.  Ted  sat  to  one  side 
of  them,  Wogan  to  the  other.  By  tipping  his  chair 
back  David  could  from  time  to  time  observe  the 
lawyer.  He  had  already  noticed  that  Wogan  ate 
hardly  anything. 

Presently  Wogan  arose,  spoke  a  word  in  the 
detective's  ear.  The  detective  nodded;  but  with 
a  gloomy  look.  It  was  very  pleasant  out  there. 
The  cigar  tasted  good.  The  prospect  of  sitting 
again  in  the  stuffy  cabin,  with  the  wheezy  organ  and 
squawking  vocalist,  was  disagreeable.  He  smoked  a 
moment;  then  tossed  away  the  cigar  reluctantly 
and  followed  his  ward  into  the  enclosed  space. 
David  watched  him  disappear  in  Wogan's  wake; 
waited  a  moment  longer;  then  sprang  up  nimbly. 

"Keep  your  eye  on  him,  Ted,  I'm  going  to  the 
old  place,"  he  said,  and  ran  up  the  steep  stairs  to 
the  cabin  deck. 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  317 

Wogan  loitered  a  moment  in  the  lavatory  —  wish 
ing  to  dare,  yet  uncertain,  rather  afraid.  As  he 
hesitated  the  door  opened  and  his  burly  guardian 
looked  in  upon  him. 

A  red-hot  rage  of  disappointment  prickled'  the 
lawyer's  mind.  However,  there  was  no  help  for  it 
—  just  now.  With  the  detective  at  his  heels  he 
walked  through  to  the  forward  stairway,  climbed  up 
to  the  cabin,  and  went  to  his  stateroom.  "I'm 
going  to  get  some  more  sleep,"  he  said,  as  he  closed 
and  locked  the  door.  The  detective  chewed  at  his 
mustache.  It  was  disagreeable  in  there.  He  walked 
up,  took  a  seat  not  far  from  the  organ,  and  stared  at 
the  two  girls. 

Having  locked  the  door,  Wogan  gently  tried  it 
to  make  sure  that  it  was  fast.  The  conflagration 
was  raging  now.  It  wasn't  in  the  least  a  question  of 
resisting.  His  throat  burned  and  contracted.  He 
wetted  his  lips  which  were  immediately  dry  again. 
His  very  breath  came  short.  The  only  thing  in  the 
world  that  he  could  think  of  was  to  get  drink  —  to 
get  it  quick.  His  hand  began  to  tremble  as  he  took 
the  empty  bottle  from  under  the  pillow  and  tipped 
it  up.  But  there  wasn't  a  drop  left.  As  usual,  the 
moment  he  definitely  resolved  to  have  liquor  a 
growing  madness  possessed  him.  Now,  as  he  gently 
unfastened  the  outer  door  of  slats,  he  was  ready  to 
fly  at  the  bull  dog's  throat  if  necessary.  As  cau 
tiously  he  unlocked  the  door  of  plank;  opened  it; 
thrust  out  his  head.  A  rustic  young  couple  and  an 


318  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

old  woman  sat  by  the  rail  forward.  That  was  all. 
Wogan  hurried  out;  ran  down  the  narrow  stairs 
at  the  stern,  and  so  to  the  dirty  little  cubby-hole  that 
served  as  a  bar-room. 

He  was  gone  hardly  two  minutes.  And  as  he 
hastened  back,  hugging  the  big  bottle  under  his 
coat,  there  was  a  very  carnival  in  his  brain ;  the 
imps  danced  and  rioted  in  a  wild  jubilee  for  the  drink 
that  was  coming  in  an  instant.  Hugging  the  bottle, 
all  afire  with  desire,  Wogan  slid  through  the  unlocked 
door  to  his  stateroom  —  and  powerful  fingers  clutched 
vice-like  into  his  throat.  He  was  half  lifted  from 
his  feet  and  flung  across  the  bunk  like  an  empty 
sack.  Before  he  could  gasp  the  fingers  were  crushing 
his  windpipe  again. 

David  was  quite  deliberate.  He  put  a  knee  in 
Wogan's  stomach,  for  better  purchase ;  opened  his 
coat,  even  righted  the  whiskey  bottle  when  it  fell ; 
and  took  out  the  letters.  He  kept  the  knee  in  the 
lawyer's  stomach;  but  took  the  hand  from  his 
throat  in  order  to  open  the  packet  and  assure  himself 
at  a  glance  that  all  the  letters  were  there.  He  had 
rather  had  it  in  mind  to  punch  Wogan's  head  a  bit  if 
occasion  offered ;  but  the  head  was  now  thrust  back 
into  the  pillow,  the  chin  prominent,  the  face  con 
gested,  the  eyes  rolling  —  a  disagreeable  sight.  So 
David  walked  out  and  shut  the  door  behind  him. 

Ted  was  at  his  post  by  the  cabin  window.  David 
held  the  letters  so  he  could  see  them  and  gave  a  nod. 
They  went  over  to  the  rail  together.  David  silently 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  319 

unfolded  the  letters  one  by  one  in  Ted's  sight,  silently 
tore  each  into  fine  bits  and  tossed  the  bits  to  the  wind. 
The  last  of  them,  and  the  old  envelope,  left  his  hand 
and  fluttered  out  like  a  flock  of  little  white  birds, 
slowly  settling  down  upon  the  water.  It  was  ended. 

David  looked  up  with  a  little  smile.  "  That's 
settled,  Teddie,"  he  said. 

It  seemed  to  Ted  as  though  he  suddenly  woke 
up  in  a  clear  light.  "It's  great,  Davy  —  great, 
what  you've  done  for  me,"  he  murmured. 

"I'm  glad  to  have  had  the  chance,  Teddie,"  David 
answered  quietly.  The  two  men  looked  at  each 
other,  spirit  to  spirit,  serene,  uplifted.  There  was 
nothing  else  to  be  said.  Words  were  too  cheap. 
And  David  thought,  with  pride:  "I've  won  for 
them!"  He  meant  Ted's  mother  and  Frederick 
Hasbrook,  too. 

He  stepped  over  and  glanced  through  the  cabin 
window.  The  bulldog  was  sitting  in  there  gloomily. 
They  were  still  many  hours  from  Chicago.  The  diffi 
cult  task  that  his  pity  had  set  for  him  was  well 
finished.  He  began  to  think  of  himself  —  and  with 
warm  starts  of  hope.  They  should  get  into  the  city 
about  eight  o'clock.  He  wasn't  sure  about  the 
trains ;  but  it  seemed  likely  that  he  could  get  one 
which  would  take  him  back  to  Sauganac  by  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  At  any  rate  he  could  com 
municate  with  Winthrop  by  telephone  —  have  him 
delay  the  case  until  he  could  return.  There  was  a 
good,  big  fighting  chance  — 


320  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

For  what? 

He  could  not  free  his  mind  of  the  strange,  cold 
woman  in  the  guise  of  his  wife  who  had  stood  up  to 
judge  him,  and  judged  him  wrong;  who  had  set  him 
a  certain  task  to  do  —  as  though  they  had  not  already 
irrevocably  given  themselves  each  to  each.  "  No, 
Loie,"  he  thought,  "  you  oughtn't  to  have  done  that. 
You  oughtn't  to  have  said  you'd  throw  me  over  if 
I  didn't  meet  certain  conditions.  How  can  we  get 
along  that  way?  You  oughtn't  to  have  done  it ! " 

This  persistent  idea  that  his  marriage  stood  upon 
something  else  than  just  love  continually  came  up 
and  subtly  defeated  him.  He  kept  working  himself 
up  —  thinking  how  he  would  go  to  a  telephone,  call 
up  Winthrop,  explain  where  he  was,  look  up  a  train ; 
and,  finally,  save  himself  with  Louise.  But  the  fact 
that  he  had  to  save  himself  with  her  continually 
overthrew  him.  He  was  beaten  already ! 

He  was  thinking  very  little  about  Teddie  or  Wogan 
or  the  bulldog  as  the  tubby  boat  paddled  slowly  into 
the  river,  heading  for  the  darkened  masses  of  ware 
houses.  He  had  an  impression  that  Wogan  had  kept 
his  stateroom;  but  it  didn't  matter  in  the  least. 
His  very  nearness  to  the  telephone  and  the  train 
someway  helped  to  baffle  him.  He  must  run  about 
now  and  try  to  make  good  a  footing  with  his  own 
wife  —  and  she  herself  pushed  him  away ! 

He  felt  defeated.  His  thoughts  were  anxious, 
disconcerted;  not  firm  and  clear  as  when  he  had 
been  busy  with  Teddie's  case.  Something  had  been 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  321 

taken  out  of  him.  He  wasn't  the  able  man  that  he 
had  been  the  night  before.  And  he  vaguely  felt 
that  this  was  because  he  was  humiliated;  because 
his  head  hung  down.  "  You  oughtn't  to  have  done 
it,  Lou  ! "  he  thought  again. 

Waiting  with  the  little  crowd  of  passengers  for 
the  gang-plank  to  be  run  out,  he  saw  Wogan  and  the 
thug,  and  was  rather  surprised,  for  Wogan  was 
obviously  drunk  now  —  barely  steady  on  his  legs. 
The  bulldog  had  him  under  the  arm. 

David  and  Ted  were  almost  the  last  who  stepped 
to  the  dock.  A  hand  fell  upon  David's  arm  on 
either  side.  His  flesh  recognized  a  certain  expert- 
ness  and  power  in  the  grip,  and  he  stood  perfectly 
still,  not  even  turning  his  head. 

"You're  under  arrest,"  said  a  voice  in  his  ear. 

"Who  do  you  think  I  am?"  he  asked  coolly. 

"David  Donovan,"  the  voice  answered. 

He  looked  to  each  side  then;  recognized  the 
muscular  type  of  the  city  detective  in  his  captors. 
Also,  he  saw  a  third,  palpably  of  the  same  guild, 
standing  by.  Wogan  and  the  bulldog  had  halted  a 
rod  away.  Wogan  was  looking  at  the  tableau  with 
steady  but  stupid  eyes.  The  bulldog  was  indulging 
a  humorous  grin. 

David  understood  it  perfectly.  Of  course,  Codley 
would  have  a  trick  to  play.  This  was  it  —  an  arrest 
on  some  trumped-up  charge ;  doubtless,  too,  a  good 
bribe  to  the  detectives.  Thus  he  would  be  kept  snugly 
locked  up  until  the  Thomas  case  was  disposed  of  in 


322  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

the  morning.  No  doubt  Old  Alphabet  was  waiting 
impatiently  to  recover  the  letters  from  Wogan.  It 
gave  David  no  elation  whatever  just  then  to  re 
member  that  the  letters  were  safe  and  the  trickster 
tricked.  At  the  moment  he  was  simply  stolid. 
The  two  hands  kept  their  fast  hold  on  his  arms.  He 
jerked  his  head  for  Ted  to  step  nearer.  As  Ted 
obeyed,  the  third  detective  intervened,  thrusting  a 
huge  shoulder  in  Ted's  way. 

" Habeas  corpus!"  David  called. 

The  third  detective  elbowed  Ted  aside ;  even  put 
a  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  led  him  away.  Very 
likely  he,  too,  would  be  arrested,  David  thought  — 
simply  stolid.  It  was  no  use  making  a  fuss.  Per 
haps  these  servants  of  the  law  would  get  a  double 
fee  if  they  cracked  his  head.  He  went  along  with 
them  quietly  and  silently,  not  even  asking  the  charge 
against  him. 

They  took  him  to  a  waiting  carriage  and  drove 
away.  He  saw  that  they  were  going,  not  to  the 
central  police  station  in  the  city  hall,  but  to  some 
outlying  one  —  doubtless  in  order  to  baffle  any 
attempt  on  Ted's  part  to  release  him  by  habeas 
corpus  before  morning. 

When  the  carriage  stopped,  he  saw  that  it  was  to 
the  police  station  on  Cottage  Grove  Avenue  that  he 
had  been  taken.  He  exerted  his  will ;  tried  his  best 
to  gather  himself  up.  Here  was  a  chance  to  do 
something.  Inside  the  station  he  confronted  the 
desk  sergeant,  demanded  to  know  the  charge  upon 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  323 

which  he  was  arrested ;  demanded  also  the  right  to 
communicate  with  his  friends;  insisted  upon  being 
permitted  to  telephone  to  a  lawyer.  He  simulated 
a  passion;  filled  the  station  with  his  clamor.  He 
let  them  know  that  he  knew  the  law  and  the  police 
regulations ;  told  them  they  had  no  right  to  lock 
him  up  without  giving  him  a  chance  to  send  word  to 
his  lawyer  and  to  friends  who  would  go  bail ;  assured 
them  he  would  take  it  up  in  the  courts  and  in  the 
newspapers,  too. 

The  desk  sergeant  had  a  face  like  a  full  red  moon, 
and  was  simply  impassive.  A  man  in  the  uniform 
of  a  lieutenant  of  police  appeared  at  the  door  of  the 
private  office,  listening.  The  two  detectives  who  had 
arrested  him  stood  by,  rather  amused,  waiting  for  a 
word  of  command.  David  knew  perfectly  well  that 
his  arrest  had  been  cooked  up  with  somebody  in 
authority.  He  had  no  doubt  that  Old  Alphabet  had 
paid  a  handsome  bribe.  More  than  that  he  himself 
felt  the  utter  hollowness  of  his  own  passion.  He 
could  raise  his  voice,  shake  his  fist,  look  fierce.  But 
all  the  while  he  knew  there  was  no  real  force  behind 
it.  The  impassive  desk  sergeant  calmly  told  him 
the  gross  and  palpable  lie  that  the  telephone  was 
out  of  order;  as  calmly  told  him  to  write  a  note  to 
his  lawyer  —  which  would  be  sent  as  soon  as  the 
sergeant  could  find  a  man  to  take  it.  Finally,  David 
suffered  himself  to  be  led  away  to  a  cell.  His  poor 
little  farce  of  resistance  was  played  out. 

He  was  defeated.     The  fight  was  subtly  gone  out 


324  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

of  him.  He  sat  in  the  cell  stolidly,  trying  to  tell 
himself  that  Teddie  would  get  him  out  with  a  writ  of 
habeas  corpus,  yet  not  believing  it.  In  his  need, 
Loie  had  denied  him  and  set  him  a  stunt  to  do. 

In  the  meantime  Wogan  and  the  thug  had  taken 
a  cab  for  the  hotel  where  Old  Alphabet  awaited  them 
—  to  take  the  letters.  The  mind  of  such  a  drunkard 
as  Wogan  is  a  landscape  lit  by  lightning  flashes. 
At  one  instant  he  saw  clearly ;  then  all  was  confused 
darkness.  With  his  rocking  brain  he  was  trying  to 
stick  to  a  plan  whereby  he  could  get  hold  of  the 
five  thousand  dollars  before  Codley  became  aware 
that  the  letters  were  gone.  This  involved  slipping 
away ;  going  to  another  hotel ;  and,  in  the  morning, 
demanding  that  the  currency  be  sent  to  him  —  after 
Codley  had  spent  a  night  in  apprehension.  He 
supposed  the  thug  would  keep  a  certain  guardian 
ship  of  him  until  the  letters  were  delivered.  Also,  he 
paid  his  astute  principal  the  compliment  of  supposing 
that  Mulholland  probably  had  instructions  to  lay 
hands  on  the  letters  any  time  if  a  fair  chance  offered. 
There  wasn't  much  use  in  trying  to  disguise  that  he 
was  drunk.  On  the  other  hand,  in  his  lucid  mo 
ments,  he  had  a  cunning  idea  that  his  interest  lay 
in  the  opposite  direction. 

In  the  cab  he  gave  an  exaggeratedly  drunken 
chuckle.  "Mulhol  —  old  man,"  he  crowed  thickly, 
"I  got  letters  here  worth  hundred  thousand  dollars  !" 
He  patted  the  breast  pocket  of  his  overcoat.  "They 
can't  fool  Wes  Wogan !" 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  325 

"Got  'em  safe,  eh,"  the  bulldog  replied,  flatter 
ingly.  His  pale  and  prominent  eyes  fixed  hungrily 
on  the  spot  Wogan's  hand  had  caressed.  Old 
Alphabet  had  mentioned  a  packet  of  letters  —  and 
that  there'd  be  a  fifty-dollar  bill  in  it  if  he  happened 
to  get  his  hands  on  them  —  without  any  violence  — 
and  delivered  them  over. 

Entering  the  hotel  Wogan  drew  off  his  overcoat. 
The  thug  eyed  it  and  mentally  licked  his  chops. 
As  they  came  near  the  elevators  Wogan  offered  him 
the  garment.  "Hold  my  coat  a  minute,  will  you?" 
he  said;  and  added,  with  an  inebriate  wink,  "Going 
to  sneak  in  a  drink  on  the  oP  man,  you  know." 

Mulholland  smiled  expansively,  even  affection 
ately,  as  he  took  the  coat.  He  waited  until  the  car 
was  ready  to  start  up  and  Wogan  was  disappearing 
through  the  door  that  led  to  the  bar-room ;  then  he 
called,  "I'll  wait  for  you  upstairs,"  and  stepped 
briskly  into  the  car. 

Wogan  did  not  even  look  around.  In  the  bar 
room  he  did  not  even  stay  for  a  drink ;  but  slipped 
quickly  out  of  the  side  door  and  hastened  to  a  cab. 
He  gave  the  driver  the  name  of  a  railroad  station 
and  sprang  in.  He  was  going  to  cover  his  tracks ! 
Inside  the  cab  he  leaned  back  and  laughed.  The 
notion  of  his  own  cunning  delighted  him.  They'd 
find  they  had  Wes  Wogan  to  deal  with !  He  left 
his  cab  at  the  railroad  station;  walked  around  the 
waiting-room ;  came  out  and  took  another.  But  he 
did  not  tell  the  driver  to  go  to  a  hotel,  as  he  had 


326  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

intended  a  moment  before.  Oh,  no !  Not  yet ! 
He  had  ;em  beaten  !  There  was  plenty  of  money  in 
his  pocket !  The  night  was  still  young ! 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  —  sitting 
blank  and  stolid  in  his  dirty  cell  —  David  was 
aroused  by  the  locking  up  of  two  drunk-and-dis- 
orderlies.  One  of  them  was  noisy ;  the  other  limp. 
David  walked  mechanically  to  the  cell  door,  and 
recognized  the  limp  one.  It  was  Wesley  Wogan. 

After  the  shock  of  surprise,  he  laughed.  He  and 
Wogan  together  !  He  went  back,  leaned  against  the 
wall  of  the  cell,  his  arms  folded.  Again  and  again 
that  night  his  wife  had  appeared  before  him  —  slim, 
beautiful,  cold,  denying  his  manhood,  setting  him 
a  stunt  to  do.  And  he  felt  an  immense,  mournful 
loneliness  that  had  nothing  to  do  with  his  physical 
surroundings. 

After  a  while  there  was  another  disturbance.  Two 
or  three  men  went  hastily  by  the  cell  door.  He 
thought  one  of  them  wore  a  white  slouch  hat.  Pres 
ently  they  returned,  and  as  he  glanced  up  he  could 
almost  have  sworn  to  that  slouch  hat.  Two  min 
utes  later  a  policeman  came  down,  opened  the 
cell  door,  beckoned  to  him. 

As  David  climbed  the  iron  stairs,  in  the  wake  of 
his  guardian,  he  saw  that  daylight  was  beginning 
—  cold  and  dead  and  gray.  He  was  led  to  the  pri 
vate  office.  Old  Alphabet  and  the  thug  were  wait 
ing  for  him  there.  Their  anxious,  night-long  search 
for  Wesley  had  just  ended,  and  they  had  found  his 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  327 

pockets  empty.  There  was  a  deep  wrinkle  in  Cod- 
ley's  forehead ;  his  eyebrows  drew  together.  He 
looked  ugly,  but  businesslike. 

"Have  you  got  the  letters?"  he  asked. 

"The  lake's  got  'em,  Codley,"  David  replied. 
"I  tore  'em  into  inch  bits  and  threw  'em  over 
board." 

Old  Alphabet's  sinister  eyes  bored  at  his  face. 
"I'll  have  you  searched/'  he  said. 

David  spread  his  arms  and  laughed.  "Search  and 
be  d — d.  You'll  have  an  account  to  settle  with  me 
too,  Codley.  You  don't  suppose  I  like  this  kid 
napping  business,  do  you?"  He  looked  the  old 
practitioner  in  the  eye  a  moment.  "You  don't 
really  think  I'd  carry  those  letters  around?  You 
don't  suppose  I'd  have  my  fingers  on  'em  two 
minutes  and  not  destroy  them?" 

"How  did  you  get  them?"  Codley  demanded. 

David  recounted  the  circumstances  simply.  Cod- 
ley  looked  at  Mulholland.  The  bulldog  scratched 
his  head  and  sighed.  "I  guess  that's  straight.  I 
couldn't  watch  two  doors  at  once,"  he  said. 

The  lawyer  stroked  his  chin  and  considered,  study 
ing  the  floor;  then  questioned  David  with  his  eyes. 
When  he  spoke  it  was  in  an  altered  tone. 

"I  suppose  you  did  get  the  letters  and  I've  lost 
that  stake,"  he  said,  low  and  quietly.  "The  other 
stake  I've  won.  I'll  saw  off  with  you." 

"As  how?"  David  demanded. 

Codley  nodded   at  the   clock.     "It's  almost  six. 


328  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

The  Thomas  case  comes  on  at  nine.  Showman  will 
not  continue  it  one  hour.  He  knows  I'll  break  his 
back  if  he  does.  That  stake  I've  won.  The  letters 
you've  destroyed.  That  stake  you've  won.  Just 
forget  about  this  incident  of  your  arrest  here  —  drop 
it,  you  understand  —  and  walk  out." 

"Oh,  I  care  little  enough  about  the  arrest," 
David  began  impatiently;  and  checked  himself  to 
consider.  He  could,  no  doubt,  make  a  row  about 
the  way  he  had  been  arrested  on  a  trumped-up 
charge;  accuse  the  police  of  having  refused  to  let 
him  send  for  a  lawyer ;  create  a  one-day  newspaper 
sensation.  And  that  would  be  the  end  of  it.  What 
good  would  it  do?  Codley,  wishing  to  protect  his 
police  friends,  would  get  him  his  liberty  now.  He 
ought  to  save  every  minute  he  could.  "All  right. 
It's  a  bargain,"  he  said. 

"The  Thomas  case  is  lost,"  said  Codley,  "but 
you've  won  the  other  stake  you  played  for.  No 
other  man  could  have  done  it.  Wait  a  minute." 
He  stepped  out.  Two  minutes  later  David  was  free, 
and  walked  from  the  police  station  out  on  the 
flagging.  The  sun  was  rising. 

David's  lungs,  oppressed  with  the  bad  atmosphere 
of  the  cell  room,  took  in  the  free,  cold  morning  air. 
He  lifted  his  head.  Then  his  nerves  prickled.  This 
was  the  day  of  the  trial.  In  barely  three  hours  court 
would  convene  —  and  he  far  away.  He  started 
briskly  for  the  corner  to  catch  a  car.  An  automo 
bile  tore  past.  He  looked  back  and  saw  it  sweep  up 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  329 

to  the  police  station ;  called  aloud ;  ran  back. 
Teddie  was  springing  from  the  car.  He  had  his 
lawyer  and  his  writ. 

"Oh,  are  you  out,  Davy?  I've  been  working  all 
night  to  get  you.  They  had  you  hid!"  he  cried. 
He  was  eager,  excited  —  and  somewhat  dashed  by 
this  denouement.  "By  Jove,  old  man !"  He  flung 
his  arm  over  David's  shoulder.  "I  wanted  to  get 
you  out,  you  know!" 

David  laughed.  "It's  just  as  good,  you  know, 
Teddie !  I'm  out,  as  fast  as  though  I  had  twenty 
writs!"  He  spoke  quite  gayly,  smiling,  as  he 
looked  into  the  other's  face.  What  he  saw  most  of 
all  was  that  Ted  was  animated,  vigorous,  alert. 

So,  standing  on  the  curb  in  front  of  the  police 
station,  it  came  to  him  with  a  penetrating  power 
that  only  a  little  while  before  this  man  had  been 
broken,  dying,  stretched  on  a  rack  that  was  wringing 
the  heart  out  of  him.  And  he  alone  had  saved  him ! 
He  took  his  wages,  with  pride. 

"You  might  take  me  uptown,"  he  said. 

"Sure!  Jump  in!"  Ted  exclaimed.  As  they 
were  climbing  into  the  car,  Codley  came  out  of  the 
police  station  door,  and  halted,  looking  at  them  — 
the  old  wolf,  balked  of  his  prey. 

"I'm  disappointed,  Davy!  I  wanted  to  get  you 
out,"  said  Ted,  as  the  machine  started.  He  looked 
up,  with  something  of  that  old,  baffled  expression. 

"What  does  it  matter?  I'm  out,  you  see."  David 
laughed. 


330  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

His  good  task  was  done.  But  there  was  the  other 
—  the  stunt  his  wife  had  set  him.  Codley  had  said 
the  Thomas  case  was  lost.  No  doubt  it  was.  So 
he  would  fail  in  his  stunt.  Even,  with  Ted  beside 
him,  whirling  up  awakening  Michigan  Boulevard 
in  the  bright,  crisp  new  day,  that  great  loneliness 
came  upon  him  again.  His  heart  said  that  he  had 
done  well ;  but  Loie  denied  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

LEAVING  the  house  Monday  morning,  Louise 
looked  at  her  watch  again,  and  thought,  mechani 
cally,  "I  am  still  too  early."  Thrice  on  the  way  to 
the  Court  House  she  abruptly  consulted  the  time 
piece  afresh  —  having,  so  to  speak,  suddenly  come 
to  herself  with  a  sharp  shock  and  flutter  of  appre 
hension,  lest,  in  her  dream,  a  long  tale  of  minutes 
had  slipped  by  unnoticed. 

She  was  aware  of  the  fine  morning,  of  the  stir  of 
leaves  in  the  breeze,  even  of  a  certain  seemly  bustle 
in  the  air  as  the  town  took  up  its  business  again 
after  the  Sunday  rest.  But  she  was  only  vaguely 
conscious  of  walking  bodily  in  this  scene.  She  had 
ceased  to  think.  In  a  tragic  dream  her  spirit  moved 
on  to  the  trial. 

It  was  five  minutes  of  nine  when  she  finally  climbed 
the  steps  to  the  Court  House  yard.  She  paused  on 
the  sward ;  but  did  not  actually  see  the  several  men 
hastening  by  her  to  court.  One  of  them,  a  stranger, 
happened  to  look  her  full  in  the  face  at  a  distance 
of  ten  feet,  and  was  surprised.  Her  wide-open  blue 
eyes  were  upon  him,  her  lips  a  little  apart,  she  was 
resting  her  weight  on  one  foot.  After  the  man  had 
taken  a  half  dozen  steps  he  looked  back  over  his 

331 


332  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

shoulder,  for  the  impression  which  his  glance  at  her 
had  made  lingered  in  his  mind,  and  he  now  suddenly 
asked  himself  whether  it  had  not  been  really  a  statue 
that  he  had  seen  instead  of  a  living  woman  —  the 
statue  of  a  beautiful  person  awaiting  some  mythologi 
cal  doom. 

Louise  was  not  really  seeing  the  view  of  the  town 
and  the  river's  mouth  that  lay  under  her  eyes.  It 
had  been  in  the  surface  of  her  mind  that  she  would 
wait  the  five  minutes  there  and  see  if  David  didn't 
come  up  that  way.  Yet  she  was  not  really  looking 
for  him.  By  a  sheer  and  rather  painful  effort  of 
will  she  turned  her  head  to  look  at  the  clock  in 
the  tower.  Then  indeed  her  nerves  prickled.  She 
walked  rapidly  to  the  Court  House  and  up  the  old, 
winding  stairs  with  heavy  walnut  balustrade  to  the 
court  room.  The  door  was  open.  She  entered 
with  several  others  and  stepped  to  one  side  to  be  out 
of  the  way. 

The  room  was  high  and  fairly  spacious,  but  badly 
lighted  and  ventilated.  One  smelled  the  dust  of  the 
morning  sweeping.  Walls  and  ceiling  were  grayish 
and  bare  except  above  the  bench  where  the  figure 
of  Justice  was  crudely  painted.  More  than  half  the 
floor  space  was  given  up  to  benches  for  the  on-looking 
public.  These  were  already  nearly  filled  with  a  non 
descript  crowd.  Inside  the  black  walnut  railing 
was  another  crowd  with  an  official  and  intimate  air 
—  lawyers,  witnesses,  parties  in  interest.  The  ele 
vated  box  to  the  right  with  its  two  rows  of  high 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  333 

empty  chairs  was  where  the  jury  sat.  This  other 
conspicuous  chair  midway  between  jury-box  and 
bench  was  the  witness  stand.  The  bench  itself 
was  a  rather  funereal  affair  of  walnut. 

People  were  continually  entering ;  some  —  espe 
cially  inside  the  rail  —  walked  about  and  talked. 
The  room  hummed  and  rustled.  Louise  glanced  over 
the  spectators'  benches;  looked  slowly  and  steadily 
over  the  bar.  David  was  not  there.  Then  she 
saw  Winthrop  and  Endicott  coming  out  of  a  little 
door  near  the  jury-box.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had 
seen  her  brother  since  Friday.  In  a  moment  Judge 
Showman  stepped  in  briskly  through  the  door  behind 
the  bench ;  took  his  seat.  Somebody  made  a  smart 
rapping.  At  once  the  room  hushed.  Louise  gave 
a  look  about  for  a  convenient  seat.  Then  Winthrop 
saw  her  and  hastened  forward,  beckoning.  She  met 
him  at  the  gate  in  the  railing. 

"Where's  David ?"  he  asked  quickly. 

"He  didn't  come  with  me,"  she  replied,  "I  told 
him  I'd  meet  him  here."  At  the  moment  it  was  all 
she  could  say. 

Winthrop  glanced  at  the  clock.  "He's  late 
already,"  he  said ;  and  led  her  within  the  railing. 
He  indicated  an  empty  chair  at  the  side  and  hurried 
back  to  speak  to  Endicott. 

Three  lawyers,  representing  the  interests  in  a  fore 
closure  suit,  had  popped  up  before  the  bench  the 
moment  the  judge  was  seated  and  began  talking  low 
and  rapidly  to  him,  while  he  bent  forward,  listening. 


334  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

They  wanted  him  to  take  up  their  case  that  evening, 
so  a  decree  could  be  signed  at  once. 

Louise  looked  mechanically  around  her.  Near  by 
sat  a  rather  hang-dog  young  man  in  an  obviously 
ready-made  suit,  his  sandy  hair  plastered  over  his 
brow.  He  was  talking  to  his  lawyer,  and  Louise 
understood  that  he  was  to  be  tried  for  stealing  a 
horse.  A  slim,  bedraggled  young  woman  sat  next 
the  lawyer  dandling  a  baby  with  stupid,  monotonous 
motions,  while  a  chubby  youngster  of  three  years 
leaned  against  her  thin  knees  and  twisted  his  fat 
hand  into  her  skirt.  The  young  woman  never  took 
her  eyes  off  the  prisoner  and  his  lawyer.  It  was  easy 
to  read  in  them  the  poor  little  soul  on  the  rack. 
Without  thinking  about  it,  Louise  comprehended 
her  —  the  good,  dull  little  creature,  busy  and  worried 
with  her  poor  burrow  and  her  young  ones  and  her 
inconsiderate  mate  —  and  now  suddenly  this  awful 
hand  of  the  law.  It  was  pitiful. 

Louise's  eyes  mechanically  travelled  on.  Then 
she  saw  the  back  of  a  man  who  was  standing  at  one 
of  the  tall  narrow  windows  —  the  fat  on  his  shoulders 
and  the  roll  of  flesh,  stuck  with  hairy  gray  bristles, 
above  the  edge  of  his  collar.  That  was  Allan 
Thomas.  She  saw  also  the  stocky  lawyer  standing 
beside  him  —  saw  him  grin ;  and  Thomas  looked 
around,  grinning,  also.  She  sighed,  and  looked 
away.  The  three  lawyers  were  still  talking  to  the 
judge.  She  tried  to  hear  what  they  were  saying  as 
though  it  were  something  important.  She  even 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  335 

examined  the  thin,  rather  aristocratic  face  of  the 
judge  himself.  She  had  no  high  opinion  of  Mr.  Alfred 
Showman ;  yet  a  certain  majesty  invested  this  figure, 
leaning  over  in  the  high  seat,  listening  to  the  law 
yers  —  as  though  wig  and  gown,  the  symbols  of  the 
law,  were  visibly  there.  There  was  a  very  little 
action  in  this  scene  before  her  —  the  informally 
arguing  lawyers  standing  close  to  the  bench;  the 
turning  of  a  paper ;  a  man  stepping  across  to  speak 
to  another;  a  nervous,  elderly  advocate  softly 
pacing  up  and  down ;  Winthrop  over  there  hurriedly 
reading  the  document  that  he  held  in  his  hand. 
Yet  she  indefinitely  felt  in  it  the  sweep  of  a  colossal 
drama  —  not  this  little  case  that  had  brought  her 
here;  but  the  endless  unfolding  of  civilization 
through  the  law. 

A  slouchy  man  stepped  up  to  Winthrop  and  spoke. 
Winthrop  screwed  up  his  face  and  looked  at  the 
clock,  as  though  something  hurt  his  nerves.  Louise 
felt  that  he  was  going  to  look  at  her,  and  averted  her 
eyes.  A  little  later,  when  she  looked  back,  the 
slouchy  one  was  marshalling  a  file  of  men  into 
the  jury-box,  where  they  settled  themselves  into  the 
empty  chairs.  It  came  to  Louise  that  this  was  the 
jury  —  selected  before  the  continuance  —  which  was 
to  try  Thomas.  Then  she  looked  at  the  clock. 
It  was  eighteen  minutes  past  nine.  For  many  hours 
the  sharp  point  of  a  sword  had  lain  against  her 
breast.  Now  it  ran  through  her  heart.  She  opened 
her  lips  to  draw  in  the  long,  shuddering  breath  that 


336  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

got  no  farther  down  than  the  top  of  her  lungs. 
Would  he  not  come? 

She  started,  turned  quickly  at  the  opening  of  the 
door.  But  it  was  not  David.  She  looked  down  at 
the  floor  and  gently  bit  her  lip  to  quiet  herself. 
She  felt  the  stir  about  her ;  but  for  a  moment  could 
not  look  up.  Then  she  saw  that  the  three  lawyers 
had  left  the  bench;  the  judge  dropped  back  to  a 
lounging  attitude  in  his  chair.  Also,  Allan  Thomas 
and  his  lawyer  were  coming  forward,  seating  them 
selves  coolly  at  a  long  table.  Winthrop  stood  by 
another  table,  a  document  in  his  hand,  apparently 
deeply  absorbed  in  it.  The  room  was  absolutely 
still. 

This  stillness  itself  was  the  last  act  of  the  drama. 
Louise  had  armed  herself,  contended,  sought  to  pre 
serve  a  decent  dignity.  But  in  this  silence  she  was 
mere  pain.  Clutching  hands  dragged  her  up  to  the 
block  before  a  voiceless,  curious  crowd. 

"Well?"  said  the  Court,  sharply. 

Thomas's  lawyer  spoke  up  loudly.  "We  are 
waiting  for  the  State,  your  honor." 

Winthrop  laid  his  document  on  the  table,  gave  a 
look  around,  and  at  the  door ;  then  stepped  over  to 
Louise  and  stooped. 

"Will  David  be  here  ?"  he  asked,  under  his  breath, 
gravely. 

She  looked  up  into  his  face,  her  breaking  heart  in 
her  eyes.  "I  don't  know,  Winthrop.  He  left  town 
Saturday  night.  I  told  him  to  meet  me  here." 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  337 

Their  eyes  said  what  else  was  to  be  expressed  between 
them.  His  hand  brushed  her  shoulder  compas 
sionately. 

He  went  back  to  the  table  and  cleared  his  throat, 
softly.  "My  witness  isn't  here.  I  ask  that  the 
case  be  passed  —  to  see  if  he  comes. " 

"Has  this  witness  been  served,  Mr.  Prosecutor?" 
the  Court  demanded.  The  Court  was  not  sorry  to 
have  Mr.  Prosecutor  so  fairly  on  the  hip. 

"Yes,  your  honor,"  said  Winthrop. 

"He  was  told  to  be  on  hand  at  nine  sharp?" 
The  judge  leaned  forward,  his  lip  lifted  scornfully, 
his  eyes  fixed  on  Winthrop  with  a  malicious  smile. 
He  looked  singularly  like  a  pet  dog  about  to  bite. 

"Yes,"  said  Winthrop. 

Allan  Thomas's  lawyer  spoke  up  loudly,  with  a 
gross  sarcasm.  "The  State's  witnesses  in  this  case, 
your  honor,  seem  singularly  gun-shy." 

Several  grinned  broadly.  One  of  the  jurymen 
tittered  aloud,  and  at  once  blushed  guiltily.  The 
grins  burned  Louise's  breast.  She  felt,  with  an 
immense  despair,  that  infamy  was  about  to  triumph. 
Smug,  cock-sure,  agrin,  it  merely  waited  for  a  mali 
cious  moment  until  it  drove  the  knife  home.  She 
gripped  the  arms  of  the  chair.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  she  must  rise,  step  forth,  take  the  witness  seat. 
She  did  indeed  have  the  half-formulated  notion  of 
walking  over  to  Winthrop,  asking  him  to  put  her  on 
the  stand. 

The  Court  spoke  slowly,  ironically.     "I  told  you 


338  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

clearly  enough  at  the  last  continuance  that  no  other 
would  be  granted." 

"It's  half-past  nine  now,"  said  Thomas's  lawyer. 

Winthrop  drew  his  hand  across  his  brow.  "I  will 
make  my  opening  address  to  the  jury,"  he  said. 

"Oh!"  cried  Thomas's  lawyer,  ironically;  and 
he  added,  low,  yet  loud  enough  to  be  heard,  "Does 
your  witness  know  what  you  expect  to  prove  by 
him?" 

The  Court  gave  the  prosecuting  attorney  a  look 
of  astonishment;  then  dropped  back  in  his  big 
chair,  with  a  sarcastic  smile.  Louise  understood 
that,  by  making  the  address  to  the  jury,  Winthrop 
would  gain  time.  Yet  he  was  taking  the  chance  of 
making  himself  endlessly  ridiculous,  by  formally 
opening  a  case  when  he  might  have  no  witness  to 
carry  it  on  with.  Looking  at  her  brother  a  hot  mist 
of  tears  came  into  her  eyes. 

Winthrop  cleared  his  throat ;  again  passed  his 
hand  over  his  brow;  and  turned  to  face  the  jury. 
Louise  looked  up  at  the  clock,  and  her  despairing 
heart  cried  within  her,  "Oh,  David!  Now! 
Now!" 

Nesbit  came  hurrying  in  from  the  little  door  near 
the  jury-box,  a  telegram  in  his  hand.  Winthrop 
seized  and  tore  the  envelope.  Unconsciously  Louise 
put  her  hand  to  her  breast,  her  lips  parted,  and  she 
hung  in  suspense  with  the  thought,  "Was  her 
prayer  answered?" 

Winthrop  stared  down  at  the  yellow  sheet  in  his 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  339 

hand.  He  seemed  to  read  it  slowly  over  twice  or 
thrice.  He  turned  to  the  bench. 

"The  witness,  David  Donovan,  is  in  Chicago,"  he 
said,  almost  as  though  he  were  asking  the  Court's 
advice  in  such  a  strange  case. 

Allan  Thomas's  lawyer  spoke  up  promptly. 
"Well,  let's  move  the  court  over  there.  It's  a 
pleasant  place."  An  outright  guffaw  of  laughter 
followed. 

Quite  mechanically  Winthrop  stepped  over  and 
handed  the  telegram  to  the  Court.  Judge  Showman 
adjusted  his  glasses,  ran  over  the  message.  Then, 
with  a  drawling,  sarcastic  emphasis,  he  read  it  aloud 
—  by  his  manner  inviting  all  to  laugh. 

"Have  been  detained  here,"  he  read.  "If  you 
can  get  a  continuance,  have  somebody  telephone  me 
at  Auditorium  Annex  and  I  will  come  on  the  next 
train." 

"Oh,  why  this  reckless  haste?"  Thomas's  lawyer 
sung  out.  Again  there  was  a  guffaw  of  laughter. 

The  judge  tossed  the  telegram  contemptuously 
toward  Winthrop.  It  fluttered  to  the  floor.  Win 
throp  paid  no  attention  to  its  fall. 

"Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  said  the  Court, 
in  the  bored  tones  of  a  man  who  proposes  to  make  an 
end. 

"I  see  nothing  to  do  but  dismiss  the  case,"  said 
Winthrop,  and  sighed. 

"I  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Prosecutor,"  said 
Thomas's  lawyer.  "Your  eyesight  is  improving. 


340  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

It  looked  that  way  to  us  all  along  —  all  along."  He 
got  up,  laughing,  and  ostentatiously  slapped  his 
client  on  the  back. 

"Call  the  next  case,"  said  the  Court,  disgustedly. 

The  jurymen  filed  out  of  the  box,  grinning  and 
chuckling  among  themselves.  Another  lawyer,  laugh 
ing  as  over  a  good  joke,  shook  Thomas's  lawyer 
by  the  hand.  Louise  saw  Winthrop  pass  his  hand 
over  his  brow.  Then  he  lifted  his  head  and  called  a 
man's  name  sharply.  Another  stir  —  a  shifting  and 
resetting  of  the  scene  —  took  place  within  the  rail ; 
and  it  had  gone  on  for  some  moments  before  she 
fully  realized  that  another  case  was  up ;  that  People 
versus  Thomas  was  past  and  ended.  Even  then  she 
kept  her  seat  a  little  longer,  looking  at  Winthrop, 
until  she  comprehended  that  he  was  pulling  himself 
stoutly  together,  giving  himself  steadily  to  the  next 
case  in  hand.  His  duty  still  held  him. 

She  got  up  silently  and  found  her  way  through  the 
gate  in  the  railing  and  out  of  the  court-room  without 
exactly  knowing  how.  A  little  knot  of  men  stood 
at  the  head  of  the  winding  stairs.  She  vaguely  iden 
tified  them  as  jurymen  in  the  Thomas  case.  They 
were  grinning  and  laughing. 

"That  Dave  Mercer  fum  Nogiac's  a  witty  devil!" 
one  of  them  was  saying,  with  huge  appreciation. 
"He's  one  of  Old  Alphabet's  men.  You  bet  you 
don't  ketch  them  asleep!  This  here  Holmes — " 

Louise  was  aware  that  somebody,  recognizing  her, 
had  nudged  the  speaker.  She  lifted  her  head,  looked 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  341 

them  proudly  in  the  face,  and  swept  by.  But  she 
soon  lost  again  all  distinct  sense  of  material  things 
around  her.  She  reached  the  house ;  spoke  mechani 
cally  to  the  maid ;  went  to  her  bedroom,  closed  the 
door  behind  her,  and  dropped  on  the  bed,  where  she 
lay  curled  up,  dry-eyed. 

She  wished  to  shut  them  all  out !  The  court-room 
swam  before  her  with  a  shoal  of  faces  that  tittered 
and  grinned  —  grinned  and  tittered.  The  gross 
vulgarity  of  that  last  little  farce,  with  Winthrop 
confused  and  awkward,  the  cheap  little  sarcasms 
of  the  judge,  and  Dave  Mercer,  the  witty  devil  — 
that  was  most  intolerable. 

David  was  dishonored  —  and  all  they  could  make 
of  it  was  a  dirty  little  farce !  It  was  not  love  that 
troubled  her  now.  Her  heart  was  dumb.  It  was 
her  mind  that  suffered.  Her  love  had  disappeared 
—  evaporated  in  the  heat  of  that  infernal  grin  which 
was  now  the  face  of  the  whole  world.  Some  dam 
had  broken,  letting  baseness  flood  the  earth.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  even  to  exist  in  it  some  way 
contaminated  her. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  maid  came  to  the  door  to  say  that  luncheon 
was  ready. 

"I  want  nothing/'  Louise  called  back.  The  fact 
that-  luncheon  was  ready  was  an  affliction.  Her 
bodily  being  lay  upon  her  with  an  insufferable 
weight.  Curled  up,  motionless,  she  stared  at  the 
wall.  If  one  could  only  turn  back  a  leaf ;  try  again  ! 
But  the  infamy  was  now  as  inexorable  as  the  sun 
shine  that  fell  in  a  quadrangle  upon  the  rug. 

Again  the  maid  was  tapping  at  the  door.  One 
must  be  patient.  "Yes,  Jessie,"  Louise  called 
wearily. 

The  girl  opened  the  door  a  bit,  nervously,  showing 
an  embarrassed  face.  "Mr.  Donovan  wants  the 
red  book  sent/'  she  said,  speaking  quickly,  with  a 
kind  of  apprehension.  It  was  David's  small  private 
ledger  that  he  kept  at  the  house. 

"It's  in  the  drawer  of  his  table  in  the  living  room," 
said  Louise.  She  was  hardly  surprised.  It  was  not 
much  more,  at  the  moment,  than  the  announcement 
that  luncheon  was  ready. 

"Yes'm,"  said  the  maid  and  started  to  close  the 
door.  "He's  on  the  wire,"  she  added,  more  hastily 
and  nervously  than  before. 

342 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  343 

"Send  whatever  he  asks,"  Louise  replied  wearily. 

When  the  door  closed,  she  turned  her  face  to  the 
wall.  In  spirit  David  was  so  far  from  her  that  she 
did  not  even  ask  herself  where  his  body  was  —  no 
doubt  over  there  in  Chicago.  But  he  would  be  com 
ing  back !  Yes,  he  would  be  coming  back !  She 
stared  at  the  wall,  mechanically  tracing  over  with 
her  dry  eyes  the  figure  of  a  vine  and  flower  in  the 
wall-paper.  Sometimes  she  experienced  the  op 
tical  illusion  of  a  movement,  a  flowing  or  turning,  as 
though  the  vine  ran  on  and  on  under  her  eyes.  She 
imagined  it  as  the  steady  turning  of  the  great  wheel 
whereon  she  was  bound.  He  would  be  coming  back  ! 

She  did  not  sleep  that  night.  Dawn  and  daylight 
came  on  slowly,  the  steady  turning  of  the  great  wheel 
to  which  she  was  bound.  While  the  wheel  turned, 
one  must  rise,  bathe,  dress,  eat.  By  and  by  she 
remembered  to  look  at  the  Times  and  the  Daily 
News.  Neither  had  a  word  about  David.  There  was 
a  kind  of  diabolical  humor  in  the  fact  that  the  sinister 
power  which  had  shielded  the  distillers  from  print 
now  extended  its  protection  over  David's  disgrace, 
too.  Her  pale  lips  drew  in  a  little  smile  that  hurt 
more  than  any  tears  her  dry  eyes  could  have  shed. 

It  did  not  even  occur  to  her  to  ask  what  price  they 
had  paid  David.  They  had  many  prices;  many 
kinds  of  currency.  She  did  not  suffer  through  love. 
David  had  not  only  sold  his  honor,  but  he  had  sold 
her.  There  had  been  no  misunderstanding  between 
them  as  to  the  vital  significance  which  she  attached 


344  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

to  his  testifying.  He  had  pledged  himself  to  her  — 
and  calmly  broken  the  pledge.  He  had  been  her 
soldier  —  and  deserted  her.  There  was  something 
else  that  he  valued  more.  That  was  all.  Yet  she 
understood  that  poor,  tentative  little  trick  of  tele 
phoning  for  the  red  book.  And  what  she  really 
feared  most  then  was  to  see  him  bodily  before  her  — 
come  back,  with  explanations  and  apologies.  She 
imagined  herself  taking  him  in  if  he  asked  it  —  as 
dutiful  wives  take  in  drunken  husbands,  care  for 
them,  shield  them  as  much  as  possible,  try  to  keep 
the  neighbors  and  the  children  from  finding  out. 
She  thought  that  when  he  came  back,  she  would  not 
even  question  him.  It  was  precisely  this  feeling 
that  made  the  divorce  of  her  heart  from  him  so  ir 
revocable.  She  scarcely  took  the  trouble  to  blame 
him.  In  a  way  it  was  not  his  fault  if  she  had  mis 
taken  him  for  something  entirely  different  from  what 
he  was.  He  would  come  back.  That  was  the  wheel 
to  which  she  was  bound. 

She  did  not  leave  the  house  that  day.  In  the 
afternoon  the  postman  brought  her  a  letter.  Her 
sick  mind  quailed  at  the  well-known  hand  on  the 
envelope.  She  opened  and  read  it.  The  letter 
contained  no  excuse,  no  apology,  no  defence.  But 
it  offered  her  her  liberty !  That  was  the  fact  she 
grasped.  He  offered  her  her  liberty !  Her  love 
had  seemed  dead.  She  had  dreaded  to  see  him  come 
back  —  disgraced  but  blithe !  Now  he  appeared 
clearly  to  offer  her  her  liberty.  Did  he  himself  then 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  345 

wish  to  be  free?  She  sat  with  the  sheets  in  her 
hands,  looking  blankly  at  them. 

In  the  morning  —  Wednesday  —  came  a  messen 
ger  of  the  First  National  with  a  note  from  Titus, 
asking  her  to  call  at  the  bank.  The  letter  from 
David  had  prepared  her  for  this.  She  was  loath 
to  go.  Titus  was  repugnant  to  her.  Yet  she  con 
sidered*  half  apathetically,  that  she  ought;  and  in 
the  afternoon  presented  herself  at  the  bank. 

Titus  received  her  with  a  cool  courtesy.  He  did 
not  forget  that  she  was  a  trouble-maker.  "We  hold 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  shares  of  David's  street  rail 
road  stock  as  collateral  to  a  loan  of  thirty-five  thou 
sand  dollars,"  he  explained.  " David  has  sent  me  im 
perative  instructions  to  sell  the  stock,  pay  the  loan, 
and  turn  over  the  balance  to  you."  He  paused  a  little, 
waiting  for  a  hint  from  her;  but  she  said  nothing. 
He  dropped  his  voice  to  a  rather  more  confidential 
key ;  even  with  a  little  twinkling  of  good-humor  in  his 
eyes.  "Some  things  came  up  here,  Mrs.  Donovan, 
that  strained  the  relations  between  David  and 
myself.  Those  things  are  all  out  of  the  way  now. 
I'm  sorry  David  has  taken  them  so  much  to  heart. 
I  wish  he'd  wipe  the  slate,  come  back  to  his  job, 
and  go  ahead  as  before.  The  way  is  open  to  him." 

He  said  it  candidly,  looking  her  in  the  eye.  She 
thought,  "So  that  was  it!  Nothing  whatever  had 
happened  —  or  at  most  a  trifling  inadvertence ! 
The  law  was  prosperously  strangled,  so  why  shouldn't 
the  stranglers  get  together  brotherly  again?" 


346  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

"I  wish  you'd  tell  him  so,"  said  Titus,  plumply. 

"You  must  tell  him  yourself,  Mr.  Titus,"  she  said 
coldly. 

The  banker's  dark  eyes  subtly  questioned  her. 
"He  hardly  left  the  way  open,"  he  suggested.  "He 
simply  sent  me  imperative  instructions."  He  paused 
a  moment,  still  subtly  questioning  her.  "There's  a 
fine  future  for  your  husband  here,"  he  added. 

Ah,  yes  !  she  thought.  A  fine  future  !  It  brought 
back  to  her,  in  its  rawest  grossness,  all  the  infamy 
of  the  Thomas  case.  She  was  coldly  silent. 

Titus  frowned  slightly.  "David  paid  par  for  the 
Bryerly  stock,"  he  said.  "That's  about  the  market 
for  it,  so  far  as  there  is  any.  In  view  of  all  the  cir 
cumstances,  however,  Mr.  Epperson  and  myself  will 
take  David's  stock  at  a  hundred  and  twenty-five 
dollars  a  share  —  if  you  say  to  go  ahead  on  his 
instructions." 

"I  shouldn't  think  of  amending  his  instructions," 
she  replied. 

The  banker's  opinion  of  her  had  never  been  less 
complimentary.  He  consulted  a  slip  of  paper  on 
his  desk,  took  up  pad  and  pencil,  and  began  figur 
ing.  "David's  account  with  us  shows  a  balance 
to  his  credit  of  forty-seven  hundred  and  eighteen 
dollars,"  he  said,  looking  at  the  slip.  "We  pay 
a  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  a  share  for  his 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  shares  and  deduct  the  loan. 
It  will  stand  that  way,  then."  He  handed  her  the 
pad. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  347 

She  saw  that  the  final  sum  amounted  to  more  than 
sixty  thousand  dollars. 

"His  instructions  were  to  turn  this  balance  over 
to  you/'  said  Titus. 

"Yes,"  she  replied  calmly.  Her  chief  idea  just 
then  was  to  cast  out  Titus  —  to  present  an  icy  front 
to  his  smutty-fingered  friendliness.  The  largeness 
of  the  sum  secretly  daunted  her.  But  the  banker 
was  the  last  person  whom  she  proposed  to  let  into 
her  confidence  in  that  or  any  other  regard. 

"We'll  put  it  to  your  credit/'  Titus  concluded. 
She  already  had  her  own  little  account  at  the  bank. 

"Very  well."  She  arose.  Titus  stood  up  cour 
teously. 

"There's  one  thing,  Mrs.  Donovan/'  he  said  ab 
ruptly.  "This  fellow  Bryerly's  charge  was  sheer 
lunacy.  There  isn't  a  particle  of  foundation  for  it. 
It  wasn't  right  to  bring  it  up  —  arrest  David  on 
that  trumped-up  charge." 

"I  didn't  know  he  was  arrested,"  she  said,  the 
truth  coming  out,  so  to  speak,  before  she  was  aware. 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Titus.  "This  old  crank  Bryerly 
went  to  Wogan  —  or  Wogan  went  to  him.  They 
trumped  up  a  charge.  There  isn't  a  thing  in  it.  It 
will  never  be  heard  of  again.  I  wouldn't  have  per 
mitted  it  to  be  made  if  I'd  known  about  it.  I  wish 
you'd  tell  David  so."  Indeed,  now  that  the  point 
was  gained  and  the  danger  past,  Titus  felt  almost 
sure  that  he  wouldn't  have  permitted  it.  He  saw 
the  surprise  in  her  eyes.  Then  she  collected  herself. 


348  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

"  Probably  it  doesn't  matter  now,"  she  said  with 
light  contempt.  She  turned  to  the  door. 

"Just  as  I  told  you,  Mrs.  Donovan,"  said  the 
banker,  in  a  last,  earnest  word.  "There's  a  great 
future  for  Davy  here.  I  wish  he'd  come  back  to  it. 
You  fetch  him  back !" 

She  went  out  without  replying. 

Evidently,  then,  some  sort  of  trick  had  been  played 
upon  David.  He  had  been  arrested  on  a  trumped- 
up  charge  over  there  in  Chicago.  In  the  dirty  game 
he,  too,  had  been  some  way  worsted.  But  he  need 
not  have  gone  into  it.  That  did  not  interest  her 
very  much. 

What  really  filled  her  mind  was  Titus's  last  speech. 
For  these  men  nothing  in  particular  had  happened. 
They  had  won  their  foul  game,  so  now  they  proposed 
to  let  bygones  be  bygones.  The  murder  was  done 
and  the  corpse  tucked  out  of  sight — so  why  shouldn't 
everything  go  on  prosperously  and  pleasantly  just  as 
before.  That  was  their  attitude !  And  very  likely 
they  thought  they  could  find  David  useful  in  the 
same  sort  again ! 

Business  —  practical  success  —  meant  much  to 
him.  Abruptly  she  saw  him  back  again  at  the  street 
railway  office,  making  money,  busy,  jocund;  easily 
forgetting  the  hidden  corpse  —  perhaps  hardly  aware 
either,  of  the  cold  dead  body  of  his  wife's  love 
tucked  away  in  the  closet !  Oh,  no,  David !  Not 
that !  Anything  but  that !  she  thought. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

AFTER  an  early  luncheon  Monday,  David  bade 
Teddie  good-by.  Penrose  was  taking  a  train  for 
New  York — thence  to  Europe,  as  David  had  advised. 
Teddie's  going  made  David's  loneliness  more  abso 
lute.  He  returned  to  his  room  —  to  be  at  hand  if  a 
telephone  call  came.  Before  luncheon  he  had  tele 
phoned  to  Sauganac  and  learned  the  disposition  of 
the  Thomas  case. 

He  had  broken  the  bond.  He  had  repudiated  his 
pledge.  That  was  the  great  thing  now.  The  cause 
in  which  he  had  done  it  was  past. 

About  two  o'clock  he  went  abruptly  to  the  tele 
phone  in  an  overwhelming  impatience.  Loie,  after 
all,  was  so  near !  A  touch  upon  this  mechanism 
would  bring  her  sweet  voice  to  his  ear ! 

He  called  for  the  connection  to  Sauganac,  and  as 
he  waited  he  fell  into  a  kind  of  abeyant  panic.  Al 
most  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  thoroughly 
afraid.  When  the  first  words  sounded,  his  heart 
was  hammering  at  his  ribs.  But  it  was  the  voice  of 
Jessie,  the  maid.  He  had  thought  of  that  in  his 
panic ;  and  he  told  her  to  send  him  the  red  book.  He 
would  hold  the  wire  until  she  found  it.  In  a  moment 
the  voice  sounded  again.  She  had  found  the  book ; 

349 


350  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

would  send  it.  That  was  all.  He  hung  up  the 
receiver,  and  was  ashamed.  "It  was  a  cowardly 
trick,"  he  thought. 

He  had  broken  the  bond.  It  should  be  left  to 
Loie  now  to  say  what  followed.  That  seemed  clear. 

That  evening  he  wrote  a  letter  of  instruction  to 
Titus,  and  one  to  his  wife.  The  letter  to  Louise 
ran :  — 

"You  know  before  this  that  I  have  lost.  When 
I  left  you  Saturday  night,  I  thought  it  probable  that 
I  should  not  be  able  to  appear  and  testify  to-day. 
Something  new  came  up  which  was  more  important 
to  me  than  testifying.  I  had  given  you  a  pledge; 
but  it  was  necessary  that  I  break  it.  You  were 
right  enough  in  not  hearing  my  story.  I  see  that 
now.  You  had  a  right,  if  you  wished  to  take  it, 
in  insisting  upon  the  pledge.  The  necessity  that 
seemed  imperative  to  me  might  not  seem  so  to  you. 
It  all  comes  back  to  this  proposition :  I  did  what  I  did 
because  I  felt  that  I  must.  As  it  looks  to  me  now, 
Lou,  when  a  man  feels  that  way  he  has  no  right  to 
turn  aside  for  anybody. 

"I  am  writing  Titus  to  sell  my  stock  and  turn  the 
balance  over  to  you.  I  don't  know  how  he  will  treat 
me,  but  at  any  rate  there  will  be  several  thousand 
dollars.  The  house  is  already  in  your  name.  This 
part  doesn't  amount  to  much  in  a  way.  Yet  it  is 
due  to  you  —  a  just  debt  that  I  owe  you.  What  I 
owe  you  most  of  all  now  is  to  make  you  as  free  and 
independent  as  I  possibly  can.  I  know  what  I  am 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  351 

saying,  Lou,  when  I  write  here  that  I  have  taken  my 
own  freedom.  That  must  be  so  when  I  refused  to 
make  good  the  pledge  I  had  given  you.  I  hardly 
knew  before  that  a  man  could  have  as  great  a  wish  to 
be  exactly  square  as  I  now  have.  It  seems  to  me 
that  I  can  never  have  any  other  wish  in  my  life  — 
not  even  the  wish  of  regaining  you,  dear  —  which  is 
as  great  as  my  wish  to  be  exactly  square  with  you. 
It  wasn't  your  fault  or  my  fault;  but  we  didn't 
start  out  exactly  square.  We  said  that  I  would 
take  your  reasons  and  feelings  in  some  cases  and  act 
on  them  implicitly.  That  was  what  was  understood. 
When  it  came  to  the  test,  I  couldn't  do  it.  Think 
this  over  in  your  own  time  —  that  I  did  what  I  did 
because  I  felt  that  I  must  —  with  all  that  you  know 
of  me.  And  then  think,  freely  and  independently, 
what  you  wish  to  say  to  me.  It  wouldn't  be  exactly 
square,  either,  if  I  didn't  say  here  that  I  love  you 
and  want  you  with  all  my  heart.  I  will  wait  at  the 
hotel  several  days." 

That  was  all.  Try  as  he  would  he  could  get 
nothing  better  on  paper. 

He  waited  Tuesday  and  Wednesday.  Thursday 
forenoon  Dennis  O'Neill  found  him. 

"Brother  Titus  sent  for  me  yesterday,  and  put  me 
next  some  things,  Davy,"  said  the  old  Irishman. 
"The  job's  there  waitin'  for  ye,  lad  —  the  good  busi 
ness  and  the  good  future.  Come  back  with  me. 
What're  you  sore  about?" 

"Not  sore,  Dennis,"  said  David;    "no,  I'm  not 


352  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

sore  at  all.  It  isn't  that."  He  looked  into  the  old 
boss's  twinkling  gray  eyes  and  read  there  the  good, 
warm-hearted  old  friendship.  "I  pledged  myself 
to  my  wife  that  I'd  testify  in  that  case/'  he  said 
simply. 

"I  guessed  about  that,"  Dennis  replied.  "The 
women,  ye  know,  lad  —  God  bless  'em  —  sometimes. 
The  women,  ye  know  —  they  don't  hold  out  against 
the  man  that's  by  their  side.  A  woman  has  her 
notions  and  fancies ;  but  if  she's  a  real  woman,  she's 
old  mother  nature  right  down  to  the  ground.  The 
man  that  she's  give  up  to  once,  my  boy  —  her  hus 
band  and  provider  —  the  mate  of  her  bed  and 
board  —  if  he's  at  her  side  and  kind  to  her  and 
fond  of  her,  she  forgets  the  rest.  She  don't  hold  out 
against  him.  She  can't.  Come  back  with  me  on 
the  four-thirty,  Davy.  Your  two  strong  arms  is 
better'n  any  reasons  ye  can  write  her." 

David  looked  away.  His  breast  rose  with  a  long, 
sighing  inhalation.  He  knew  that  Dennis  was 
right  —  so  far.  His  wife  came  back  to  him  — 
desirable,  intimate,  helpless  in  his  arms.  And  he 
knew  that  she  could  not  long  defend  herself  against 
him ;  that  he  could  crush  down  her  resistance,  if  he 
were  close  at  her  side,  almost  as  though  it  were 
merely  a  question  of  physical  strength.  The  long, 
sighing  inhalation  filled  his  breast. 

"That's  just  it,  Dennis,"  he  said  slowly.  "It 
wouldn't  —  give  her  a  fair  chance.  As  you  say, 
she  couldn't  help  herself  —  long.  Do  you  see,  old 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  353 

friend.  It  isn't  as  though  we  were  starting  on  an 
even  footing.  I've  been  her  husband.  In  a  way, 
she  can't  defend  herself  against  me.  And  I  want 
her  to  come  —  freely ;  to  choose  —  freely.  That's 
due  to  her.  It's  due  to  both  of  us." 

" Nonsense,  lad,"  said  Dennis,  promptly.  "You're 
her  husband.  Ye  haven't  any  right  to  let  her  go, 
man.  Come  back  with  me." 

David  sprang  up  and  paced  the  floor.  "Four- 
thirty,  you  say?"  he  asked.  The  very  nearness  of 
the  time  —  the  very  ease  with  which  he  could  step 
over  and  place  himself  at  her  side,  set  his  heart  to 
beating  faster,  and  the  blood  to  racing  in  his  veins. 
He  was  her  husband!  He  stopped,  looking  out  of 
the  window. 

His  eyes  turned  to  the  lake,  spreading  beyond 
the  strip  of  park  which  the  hotel  fronted  —  the  same 
waters  that  washed  the  shore  at  Sauganac.  They 
made  the  nearness  still  more  real.  How  simple  to 
step  across  to  her  defenceless  side  and  woo  away  her 
resistance !  The  temptation  whispered  in  his  desir 
ing  heart. 

He  had  been  there  four  days  waiting  for  a  word 
from  her,  and  she  had  not  spoken.  He  had  said  that 
she  should  have  her  liberty  —  to  choose  freely. 

"You  saw  Titus?"  he  asked  abruptly. 

"He    sent    me,"    said    Dennis,    and    hesitated    a 
moment,  twinkling.     "  Johnny 'd  been  having  a  little 
business  transaction  with  the  missus,   as  you  in 
structed  him,  Davy." 
2* 


354  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

"He'd  turned  over  my  balance  to  her?"  David 
asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Dennis;  and,  catching  the  drift, 
"Pshaw!  She'll  turn  it  back,  lad.  Anyhow,  ye 
don't  need  to  bother  about  money.  You  know  that. 
I'm  flush." 

David  turned  from  the  window,  with  three  steps 
to  the  middle  of  the  room.  "Lend  me  a  thousand 
dollars.  I'll  soon  have  a  job,"  he  said. 

The  old  man  looked  up  at  him,  loath  and  dumbly 
protesting. 

"She  shall  not  have  a  husband  that  she  doesn't 
want,  Dennis,"  said  David,  under  his  breath;  "not 
one  that  she  has  to  apologize  for  in  her  own  mind  — 
as  though  she  let  him  in  at  the  back  door  when  he 
came  sneaking  home.  I  won't  give  her  a  man  that 
seems  to  her  a  counterfeit.  I  could  make  her  let 
me  in,  as  you  say ;  but  I  can  do  better  than  that 
by  the  woman  I  love.  I  can  leave  her  free." 

Dennis's  face  puckered.  "Don't  do  it!"  he  mut 
tered. 

David  scarcely  saw  him  just  then.  His  eyes  were 
fixed  above  the  grizzled  head.  "Come  if  you  will, 
freely  —  freely,  Loie !"  he  breathed.  He  heard  the 
steady  call  of  his  courage. 

Dennis  stood  up  and  dropped  his  hand  on  David's 
arm.  "The  heart's  too  stout,  lad !"  he  said  with  a 
kind  of  mournful  regret. 

"Lend  me  the  thousand  dollars,"  David  replied. 

Dennis  went  to  the  four-thirty  train  alone.     About 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  355 

the  same  hour  David  passed  through  the  gates  to  a 
west-bound  train.  He  was  aware  of  his  wife  at  his 
back  almost  like  a  physical  presence  that  he  could 
touch  by  turning  around.  He  climbed  into  the 
car.  "It's  the  best  I  can  do  for  you,  Loie,"  he 
thought.  "I  couldn't  let  you  bind  me.  The  best 
I  can  do  is  to  make  you,  too,  free." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

LEAVING  the  bank,  the  foremost  idea  in  Louise's 
mind  was  that  the  dishonest  organizations  stood 
waiting  and  anxious  to  receive  David  back.  Not 
that,  David !  she  repeated  to  herself. 

She  was  aware  that  he  had  given  her  all  his  prop 
erty  —  left  himself  stripped.  She  did  not  in  the 
least  wish  that ;  but  there  had  been  no  way  to  pre 
vent  it.  Also,  she  knew  that  he  had,  in  some  way, 
been  tricked  over  there  in  Chicago.  No  doubt,  as 
he  had  said  of  Frederick,  the  poor  devil  hated  the 
bargain  by  which  he  had  parted  with  his  honor. 
She  felt  an  odd  little  start  of  pity  —  for  the  badgered, 
ensnared,  overthrown  man.  Perhaps  he  had  tried 
to  save  himself. 

When  she  reached  the  house,  she  went  at  once  to 
get  his  letter,  and  she  read  it  over  carefully.  When 
she  had  first  read  it,  it  had  seemed  to  her  almost  an 
insult  —  no  remorse ;  no  penitence ;  merely  some 
phrases  about  being  under  a  mysterious  compulsion 
to  run  away.  But  now,  as  she  read  it  over,  it  sud 
denly  came  to  her  that  he  seemed  to  be  forgiving 
her! 

Staring  down  at  the  sheets,  an  image  of  the  man 
himself  slowly  formed  —  with  frank,  good-humored 

356 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  357 

eyes,  erect,  fond.  Was  he  really  base?  He  used 
to  seem  so  brave ! 

Presently  she  folded  the  letter  and  went  mechani 
cally  to  the  bedroom  to  put  it  away.  Her  eyes  fell 
upon  the  iron  couch  at  the  left  of  the  room  —  empty, 
spruce,  unwrinkled,  corpselike.  A  long  shattering 
ache  drew  through  her  heart  —  a  birth-travail,  the 
pain  of  something  seeking  to  be  born. 

In  the  first  light  of  morning  she  turned  her  head 
and  looked  over  at  the  empty  bed  of  her  mate.  He 
would  never  get  up  of  mornings  until  she  had 
turned  on  the  water  and  called  to  him  that  the 
tub  was  full.  Then  often  she  had  to  scold  him 
to  get  him  out.  How  strong  he  had  been !  How 
blithe !  How  he  used  to  sing  nonsense  jingles  as 
he  dressed ! 

Kittie  came  to  see  her  that  day,  bringing  the  baby. 
Tactful  as  ever,  the  little  woman  did  not  mention 
David  or  the  trial ;  talked  only  of  indifferent  things, 
as  though  nothing  had  happened.  Presently  she 
put  the  baby  in  Louise's  lap  —  a  soft,  befurbelowed 
little  lump,  with  silly  galvanic  motions  that  comi 
cally  aped  humanity.  A  moist,  boneless  little  hand 
clutched  over  Louise's  finger.  Again,  that  mighty, 
racking  pain  wrung  her  heart  —  a  birth-pain. 

And  then  things  that  were  intimately  David's 
began  to  torment  her  —  a  pipe  carelessly  dropped 
where  it  shouldn't  have  been ;  his  clothing ;  things 
all  over  the  house  that  she  was  continually  coming 
across,  which  brought  him  bodily  back  to  her,  kept 


358  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

offering  themselves  like  so  many  little  whispering, 
pleading  ghosts  of  her  happiness. 

One  morning  she  looked  from  the  window;  and 
her  breath  caught  in  her  throat.  A  light  frost  had 
fallen.  The  ground  was  strewn  with  autumn 
leaves.  How  the  great  wheel  turned  on !  David 
had  been  gone  two  weeks. 

That  evening  she  loitered  in  the  yard;  looked 
away  into  the  twilight  spaces,  and  realized  him  — 
somewhere  upon  the  earth;  somewhere  among  the 
numberless  children  of  men,  in  bodily  being,  with 
his  vigorous  limbs  and  genial  eyes ;  and  she  asked : 
"How  is  it  with  you  to-night,  David?  Are  you 
well  or  ill?  What  are  your  strong  hands  busy 
with  —  or  do  they  lie  weak  with  fever  —  or 
cold?" 

She  suddenly  choked  and  tears  ran  from  her  eyes. 
And  then  she  felt  clearly  that  what  racked  her  heart 
was  in  fact  birth-travail;  the  struggle  of  a  new 
love  that  sought  to  be  born.  For  her  hungry,  almost 
irresistible  impulse  was  to  run  to  him,  wherever  he 
might  be,  to  take  care  of  him,  to  give  herself  to  him 
as  the  Indian  woman  yields  to  her  husband. 

She  walked  restlessly  about  the  yard ;  then  on  up 
the  street  without  aim.  There  was  a  slight  chill  in 
the  air,  yet  many  people  sat  out  on  their  porches 
and  door-steps  —  getting  the  last  of  the  summer 
season.  Groups  of  children  played  on  the  small 
lawns  or  in  the  street  with  shouts  and  laughter. 
Louise  heard  the  gossiping  voices  of  the  people, 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  359 

resting  from  their  day's  work,  watching  their  chil 
dren  play.  So  many  of  them  even  here  in  little 
Sauganac,  and  a  million,  two  million  in  that  vast 
hive  at  the  foot  of  the  lake ;  numberless  millions 
elsewhere,  not  very  good  or  very  bad,  taking  their 
little  repose  in  the  evening,  watching  the  youngsters 
play.  Thus  the  great  stream  flowed  on,  ever  renew 
ing  itself.  This  also  was  the  meaning  of  life. 

What  was  it  that  her  marriage  to  David  had 
meant?  Was  it  not,  first  of  all,  a  pledge  to  their 
race  that  they  would  set  up  their  little  household  on 
the  earth,  rear  their  offspring,  accept  their  elemental 
lot  and  duty  as  particles  of  the  everlasting  stream? 
Was  it  not  the  oldest  wisdom,  venerable  with  knowl 
edge  of  life  before  their  creeds  were  thought  of,  that 
expressed  itself  in  the  injunction,  "Whom  God  hath 
joined  together"? 

In  this  way  she  took  upon  herself  a  new  problem, 
involving  another  trial.  This  ancient,  contemned 
duty  of  the  wife  to  cling  to  her  husband  in  sickness 
and  health,  through  good  report  and  evil  report,  was 
vitalized  for  her,  and  it  divided  her  life.  Beside  it, 
in  her  mind,  still  stood  the  supreme  value  of  the  test 
of  right  and  wrong,  by  which  David  had  fallen.  But 
when  her  mind  labored,  she  did  not  deceive  herself. 
Her  heart  had  slipped  over  and  was  fighting  on  his 
side.  Her  fibres  yearned  to  her  absent  mate. 

Now  she  began  going  almost  daily  to  Kittie's  — 
slipping  down  there,  talking  of  indifferent  things, 
helping  to  dust  the  parlor,  holding  the  baby.  She 


360  WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS 

had  sixty  thousand  dollars  in  the  bank.  An  in 
dependent  career  was  open  to  her.  But  she  could 
not  really  think  of  that  as  yet. 

Three  weeks  passed  since  the  trial.  Kittie  came 
up  to  see  her  with  the  baby,  talked  a  while,  kissed 
her,  thrust  a  letter  into  her  hand  and  went  away. 
The  letter  was  from  David.  It  gave  a  post-office 
address  in  Wyoming ;  said  he  was  well  and  at  work. 
Then :  — 

"Of  course,  I  am  thinking  of  Lou  all  the  time.  I 
have  been  thinking  of  her  most  of  the  time  since  I 
left  home.  I  still  see  it  just  as  when  I  wrote  you 
before,  and  as  I  tried  to  write  her.  We  were  married 
under  a  kind  of  false  pretence  —  that  in  certain  cases 
I  would  accept  her  feeling  and  be  guided  by  it. 
When  the  test  came,  I  couldn't  do  it.  Such  a  man 
and  such  a  woman  as  Lou  and  I  ought  not  to  be 
married  that  way.  We  are  both  brave  enough  to 
need  to  be  free.  What  I  want  most  in  the  world  is 
to  have  those  I  love  free  in  the  things  that  their 
feelings  tell  them  are  vital.  Lonely  as  I  am,  I  still 
want  it  to  be  exactly  that  way  with  Lou.  I  can't 
write  to  her  very  well ;  for  I  could  hardly  help  beg 
ging  her  in  one  way  or  another  to  do  something  that 
her  own  feeling  may  tell  her  is  wrong.  And  if  I 
kept  from  begging  her,  the  letter  would  sound  cold 
and  as  though  I  didn't  care.  You  know  I  love  her, 
Kitten ;  but  I  can  never  again  say  to  her  as  I  once 
did,  'Do  with  me  as  you  please.'  Experience  has 
opened  my  eyes.  That  isn't  right  for  either  of  us." 


WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS  361 

The  sheets  fluttered  from  Louise's  fingers.  "Oh, 
I  don't  know!  I  don't  know!"  cried  her  divided 
mind.  And  then  she  resolved  upon  something  she 
had  thought  of  before  —  to  go  to  the  Senator. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

LOUISE  found  the  Senator  at  home.  He  ha 
scarcely  left  his  grounds  in  three  weeks;  but  ha 
occupied  himself  putting  his  house  in  order.  He  ws 
aware  that  in  the  course  of  nature  his  time  coul 
not  be  very  far  away  —  just  how  far  did  not  ir 
terest  him  much.  Frederick's  disaster  had  not  a 
all  broken  his  heart.  It  had  simply  made  him  fe< 
that  his  last  experience  had  come  to  him  —  in 
sudden  douch. 

He  knew  of  the  final  collapse  of  the  prosecution  ( 
Allan  Thomas,  and  that  David  Donovan  had  lei 
town.  As  one  detached,  afar  off,  with  an  almoj 
cursory  interest,  he  had  set  afoot  some  inquiries,  an 
so  learned  of  Ted  Penrose's  visit,  with  David,  t 
Wogan's  office,  and  the  trip  on  the  lake.  The  res' 
in  outline,  was  easy  guessing,  and  there  he  had  simpl 
dropped  it.  He  was  not  thinking  very  much  abou 
Frederick,  or  the  Thomas  case,  or  Louise  or  Davic 
or  anybody  else.  He  had  nothing  more  to  do  wit 
it.  " Finis,"  was  written.  His  old  heart  withdre1 
from  the  world,  brooded  with  a  quiet,  mournfi 
fulness.  And  when  he  heard  Louise's  voice  in  th 
hall,  it  was  a  sort  of  small,  pleasant  return ;  a  littL 
sweet  waking  up,  for  a  few  moments.  He  wer 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  363 

toward  the  door  to  meet  her,  smiling  serenely,  hold 
ing  out  his  hand. 

Louise's  first  thought  was  that  he  had  aged. 
Something  of  the  working  of  his  spirit  showed  in 
his  lean,  wrinkled,  distinguished  face.  He  seemed 
to  her  a  person  blanched  and  sear  with  knowledge 
of  life.  She  sat  down  before  him  with  an  odd  touch 
of  humility,  as  though  her  own  troubles  had  grown 
smaller,  more  selfishly  personal. 

"You  know  David  has  gone  away,  Uncle  Miles/7 
she  began. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  said;  and  with  an  abrupt,  gentle 
impulse,  "Thank  him  for  me  and  for  Frederick,  Loie. 
He  had  to  fight  our  battle,  too."  He  smiled  whim 
sically,  "There's  always  so  much  for  the  valiant  man 
to  do!" 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  not  understanding. 
"I  don't  know  what  to  do,  Uncle  Miles,"  she  said  — 
quite  like  a  troubled  child  coming  to  a  parent.  "He 
was  required  to  testify,  you  know." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  he  asked,  with  some  surprise 
on  his  part.  As  he  regarded  her  a  rather  startling 
question  suggested  itself  to  him.  "You  know  why 
he  went?" 

"No,"  she  replied.  "There  had  been  a  contention 
between  us.  I  made  it  imperative  that  he  testify. 
He  simply  went,  and  wrote  me  that  something  had 
come  up  which  made  him  feel  it  was  impossible  to 
testify." 

He    comprehended   then.     His   aged   eyes,    clear 


364  WHEN   LOVE   SPEAKS 

but  weary,  dwelt  upon  her  face  —  a  fair  tablet  upon 
which  Time  would  write  so  much.  He  imagined  then 
her  stiff  young  will  and  her  laboring  hea,rt  to  which 
many  experiences  were  coming. 

"Ah,  that,  also!"  he  said  under  his  breath,  with 
an  odd  lighting  of  his  aged  face.  "He  had  also  to 
break  your  bonds  to  do  it,  Loie  !"  She  saw  that  he 
spoke  with  love  to  her ;  but  the  admiration  was  for 
David. 

"I  will  tell  you  just  why  he  went  away,"  said 
the  Senator,  quietly.  He  told  her  the  story  of 
his  son,  the  old  letters  in  the  hands  of  Codley  and 
Wogan,  of  Teddie  Penrose,  to  redeem  whom  David 
had  paid  the  price. 

"David  had  a  certain  fondness  for  Betty  Penrose," 
he  continued  evenly,  "as  we  all  had.  He  could 
hardly  have  borne  to  see  the  dogs  set  upon  her  in  the 
street.  Above  that  was  his  love  and  pity  for  Ted. 
There  are  situations  so  poignant,  my  dear,  that  the 
soul  that  is  generous  and  unafraid  wishes  irresistibly 
to  throw  itself  to  the  rescue.  I  have  lived  a  long 
time.  Probably  the  highest  point  I  ever  touched 
was  when  word  came  that  Lincoln  had  been  shot, 
and  I  thought  '  Would  to  God  that  my  breast  had 
been  in  the  bullet's  way  ! ' ' 

The  old  man's  voice  ceased.  The  still  air  of  the 
room  held  all  the  drama  in  solution.  Louise  feared 
to  move,  almost  to  breathe,  lest  someway  she  should 
precipitate  it  anew.  She  was  looking  at  the  Senator 
with  wide,  awe-stricken  eyes,  as  he  sat  before  her, 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  365 

round-shouldered,  his  head  drooping  as  he  brooded, 
his  lean  old  hands  clasped  in  his  lap.  He  looked  up, 
into  her  eyes. 

"  Never  fear,  Loie,  but  there  will  always  be  plenty 
of  men  to  obey  a  subpoena  and  prosecute  a  lawsuit, 
and  in  general  follow  the  good  virtuous  course  which, 
after  all,  is  safest  for  them.  This  other  is  some 
what  rarer  —  the  moment  in  which  the  valiant  man 
listens  solely  to  the  cry  of  his  pity,  and  tosses  every 
thing  aside,  almost  light-heartedly,  and  leaps  to 
meet  the  sword." 

"I  didn't  understand  it,"  she  murmured,  hardly 
knowing  what  she  said.  The  Senator's  figure  blurred 
before  her  through  the  still  tears.  There  was  yet 
a  certain  struggling  within  her.  "But  Winthrop 
was  right,  too,  Uncle  Miles,"  she  said. 

" Undoubtedly,  in  his  day,"  he  replied.  "You 
must  live  seventy  years  to  comprehend  that  under 
standing  life  is  an  art  beyond  any  of  us.  Some  prin 
ciples  and  actions  seem  overwhelmingly  important 
when  we  are  close  to  them.  Many  times  during  the 
war  I'd  hardly  have  stuck  at  anything  short  of  mur 
der  to  strengthen  some  general's  hands.  Now  the 
war  is  merely  a  political  episode  like  any  other. 
When  you  get  old,  you  will  see  that  the  great  trust  is 
to  life  itself.  The  long  call  doesn't  often  come  wav 
ing  a  flag  or  with  a  set  of  resolutions.  It's  rather 
the  voice  of  the  everlasting  common  experience  of 
men  —  the  lover  with  his  bride,  the  woman  with  her 
child,  the  friend  and  neighbor.  Depend  upon  it,  it 


366  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

is  by  that  voice  that  the  divine  utters  itself  in  the 
world.  Perhaps  David  heard  it." 

"He  has  written  to  Kittie,"  she  murmured.  "He 
wishes  me  to  choose  freely.  I'll  write  to  him."  She 
lifted  her  chin  a  little,  with  a  humble  pride,  looking  at 
the  Senator  through  silent  tears.  "I  love  him/7  she 
said  simply. 

He  bent  toward  her,  smiling  a  little,  and  nodded. 
"That's  it,  Loie.  That's  it.  We  know  so  little 
with  our  heads !  They're  not  worth  much.  Our 
codes  and  dogmas  and  theories  —  how  all  that  drifts 
past.  It  isn't  what  I  did  in  war-time,  or  in  politics, 
or  any  of  those  activities,  although  they  seemed  so 
important  to  me  at  the  time.  It's  other  things. 
Once  in  this  very  room,  my  dear,  I  gave  way  to  a 
nasty  fit  of  jealousy  and  struck  with  words  a  gentle 
heart  that  loved  me  with  all  its  might.  In  this  room. 
.  .  .  Dying's  a  lonesome  kind  of  business  at  best, 
Loie  —  leaving  all  your  clothes  that  you've  spent  a 
life  in  making  behind,  you  know,  and  going  out  all 
alone  with  just  your  poor  soul  in  your  hand.  I  shall 
care  very  little  what  anybody  finds  about  my  govern 
orship  and  my  senatorship  and  my  reconstruction 
speeches ;  but  there's  the  dirty  spot  of  those  brutal 
words  that  I  spoke  in  this  room.  I'd  like  mighty 
well  to  turn  that  side  underneath  and  keep  it  hidden 
-when  I  go  out  alone,  with  my  soul  in  my  hands." 

She  put  her  left  hand  to  her  breast  to  ease  the  ache. 
Her  swimming  eyes  begged  him  to  withhold  his 
arrows. 


WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS  367 

"I  like  to  imagine  it  there  in  his  office,"  he  con 
tinued,  low ;  "  when  Teddie  came  to  him  in  such  dire 
need,  in  such  pain ;  and  David  hears  the  long  call, 
my  dear,  the  fife  and  drums  of  his  heart ;  and  he 
opens  his  hands  so  ;  throws  everything  away,  almost 
lightly,  and  answers. "  With  the  same  slight  smil 
ing  he  held  up  his  hands,  as  letting  everything  run  out 
of  them.  "It  heartens  me  to  think  of  that!"  He 
saw  her  parted  lips  and  storming  breast.  "If  you 
consider  it,  Loie  —  even  Codley  and  Wogan  and  all 
sorts  of  bedeviled  men  and  women  —  they,  too, 
may  open  their  hands  and  be  free.  Even  their  hearts 
call  sometimes.  They  have  only  to  listen  —  and 
throw  away."  He  made  the  gesture  again. 

"Yes !  Yes  !"  she  said,  with  a  sudden,  breathless 
energy.  She  stood  up,  lifted  her  hands  as  he  had 
done.  "Oh,  yes  !"  she  repeated ;  and  the  soft,  sweet 
lilt  of  love  came  into  her  voice.  "I  know  what  to 
do!" 

Abruptly,  her  face  radiant,  she  leaned  over  him. 
He  took  her  cheeks  in  his  palms  and  kissed  her. 

"Good-by,  dear,"  he  said  simply. 

The  words  gave  her  a  certain  shock.  She  under 
stood  he  was  very  old.  For  an  instant  she  half 
heard  the  rush  of  sable  wings.  Then  the  Senator 
stood  up,  with  a  quiet  smile,  and  laid  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder.  And  someway  she  was  not  afraid.  She 
heard  the  wings ;  but  they  did  not  daunt  her. 

"Dearest,"  she  murmured,  and  lifted  her  lips 
again;  then  whispered,  "Good-by." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

HOMANAPOLIS  was  shorter  by  half  than  its  name. 
It  consisted  of  a  dozen  little  frame  houses  which  a 
giant  child  might  have  dropped  carelessly  in  the 
midst  of  the  plain.  A  man  was  covering  the  clean 
white  pine  boards  of  the  railroad  station  with  dark 
red  paint.  The  rails  and  ties  were  so  new  that  it 
seemed  a  pity  to  spoil  them  by  use. 

There  was  a  gentle  rise  of  ground  west  of  town. 
From  its  crest  one  looked  over  an  immense  prairie, 
treeless,  with  undulations  so  slight  that  they  hardly 
obstructed  the  view,  and  covered  with  coarse  grass, 
now  searly  brown.  In  a  broad  sweep  of  the  eye 
the  brown  floor  beneath  was  as  unbroken  as  the  blue 
arch  above,  and  the  plain  gave  back  the  mystery  of 
the  sea  itself.  With  only  two  simple  lines  —  those 
of  the  ground  and  the  sky  —  it  looked  an  unfinished 
place  where  only  the  elementals  had  been  put  in  and 
the  rounded,  finished  world  was  still  to  be  built.  In 
time  it  came  to  one  that  what  the  eye  had  taken  for 
a  cloud  bank  on  the  western  horizon  was  a  mountain 
range,  the  masses  everlastingly  built  into  the  sky 
as  though  they  offered  a  goal  to  this  emptiness. 
Those  far  faint  patches  of  light  were  the  never 
melting  snow  fields  of  the  heights. 

368 


WHEN  LOVE  SPEAKS  369 

The  perfectly  straight  line  of  the  railroad  ran  over 
the  brown  floor.  The  dirt  of  the  grade  seemed  just 
to  have  fallen  into  place.  The  marks  of  the  shovel 
were  still  distinct.  Some  miles  beyond  the  town  a 
smudge  of  smoke  gave  the  only  sign  of  human  ac 
tivity.  Advancing  toward  it  one  saw  presently  the 
construction  outfit  —  a  smoking  engine,  a  string  of 
cars,  the  moving  figures  of  men.  They  seemed  few 
and  small  in  the  centre  of  the  great  plain.  Yet 
their  tiny  hands  had  laid  these  rails  along  the  earth. 
They  were  pushing  on  to  assail  the  mountains  and 
would  conquer  them. 

Close  at  hand  the  camp  bulked  more  imposingly. 
The  cars  numbered  half  a  score.  A  locomotive 
loafed,  smoking.  The  puffing  of  another  engine 
mingled  with  the  harsh  sounds  of  grinding  iron, 
blows,  human  voices.  The  foreman,  in  overalls  and 
blue  flannel  shirt,  stood  on  a  pile  of  ties  overlooking 
the  work.  Just  so  Louise  had  found  him  when  she 
drove  to  the  camp. 

Now  she  sat  on  the  lower  tier  of  ties,  her  hands 
idle,  looking  on,  serene,  lifting  her  face  to  the  low 
steady  wind  that  drew  across  the  plain. 

They  had  had  much  to  say  to  each  other,  but  the 
great  reconciliation  had  made  itself.  She  was  his 
wife.  That  covered  all.  And  life  had  mysteriously 
become  as  simple  as  the  scene.  She  seemed  fully 
to  understand  him  now.  He,  too,  was  simple,  and 
deeply  rooted  in  life.  Here  she  had  found  him, 
directing  his  gang  of  men,  doing  his  day's  work. 

2s 


370  WHEN   LOVE  SPEAKS 

There  were  numberless  things  that  should  not  be 
so.  Here  in  this  new  land  all  the  wrongs  of  the  old 
were  coming  in.  These  bright  steel  rails  which  would 
quicken  the  empty  earth  to  life  would  also  bring  in 
greed,  oppression,  chicane,  corruption.  One  wished 
it  were  otherwise;  but  it  could  be  made  otherwise 
only  slowly. 

They  were  going  back  to  Sauganac  soon  —  at  least 
to  wind  up  his  affairs  in  the  open.  Trials  awaited 
them,  and  so  long  as  the  wheel  turned  it  would  bring 
problems,  difficulties.  But  this  did  not  disturb  her 
now.  They  would  meet  them  all  together,  side  by 
side,  loving  —  and  free. 

With  idle  hands  she  looked  on,  at  peace,  watching 
the  men  work,  lifting  her  face  to  the  low  wind. 
David's  voice  above  her  shot  out  a  direction  with 
energy.  She  turned  her  head,  looked  up  at  him, 
laughed  —  low,  sweetly,  serenely.  This  was  a 
strange  place  —  the  rough,  toilsome  little  camp  in 
the  centre  of  the  vast  plain,  where  the  foot  of  man 
had  scarcely  trod  before.  Yet  she  was  at  home. 


CONISTON 

By  WINSTON  CHURCHILL 
Author  of  "RICHARD  CARVEL,"  "THE  CRISIS,"  "THE  CROSSING,"  etc. 

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full  of  fine  and  delicate  feeling,  capable  of  great  generosities  and  exquisite 
tenderness;  .  .  .  full  of  interest  and  charm  as  a  love  story.  .  .  .  Alto 
gether,  an  engrossing  novel,  singularly  vigorous,  thoughtful,  artistic." 

—  New  York  Times. 

"Coniston  strengthens  Mr.  Churchill's  position  as  one  of  the  ablest 
writers  of  the  day.  It  possesses  the  irresistible  grip  on  the  emotions  possessed 
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works  up  an  intense  dramatic  interest  that  almost  makes  one  forget  its 
literary  charm."  —  Chicago  Record- Her  aid. 


LADY  BALTIMORE 

By  OWEN  WISTER 
Author  of  "THE  VIRGINIAN,"  etc.,  etc. 

With  illustrations  by  Lester  Ralph  and  Vernon  Howe  Bailey 
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It  reminds  one,  too,  of  Margaret  Deland's  admirable  '  Old  Chester  Tales, ' 
for  it  is  written  with  the  same  loving  appreciation  of  a  simple  neighbor 
hood.  With  what  a  sense  of  humor,  with  what  a  delicacy  of  touch,  with 
what  a  finished  skill  Owen  Wister  has  made  an  exquisite  picture  you  must 
read  to  see.  It  is  like  a  dainty  water-color  portrait,  delicious  in  itself 
even  if  it  were  not  true  ;  but  to  its  truth  there  will  rise  up  a  crowd  of 
witnesses."  —  By  a  Southern  contributor  to  The  Record- Her  aid,  Chicago. 


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the  time  when  he  hovers  round  a  dog-sledge  in  the  frozen  north,  through  the 
long  months  of  his  gradual  adoption  of  the  ways  and  habits  of  man-animals. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  thrilling  and  dramatic  stories  that  Mr.  London  has  yet 
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"  These  are  good  and  vigorous  stories,  made  yet  more  interesting  by  the 
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"They  are  good  stories  of  adventure  to  which  the  background  of  truth 
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RECENT  FICTION 


IF   YOUTH   BUT   KNEW 

By  AGNES  and  EGERTON  CASTLE 

Authors  of  "  The  Pride  of  Jennico,"  etc.,  etc. 

Illustrated  by  Lancelot  Speed 
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Although  totally  different,  both  as  to  story  and  as  to  method  of  tell 
ing  it,  from  "The  Pride  of  Jennico,"  "  If  Youth  but  Knew"  possesses 
the  same  kind  of  atmosphere.  Among  its  leading  actors  is  an  old 
wandering  musician,  a  man  with  a  deeply  tragic  past,  a  mysterious, 
almost  fantastic  figure,  caustic  yet  invariably  benevolent,  who  roams 
the  world,  unable  to  rest  long  anywhere.  One  sunset  hour  up  in  the 
mountains  his  path  crosses  that  of  a  young  man  whose  essential  quali 
ties  of  heart  and  manliness  he  quickly  detects.  Finding  the  young 
man  strangely  blind  to  the  glory  of  his  years,  he  undertakes  to  teach 
this  youth  to  be  young  ;  to  realize  the  delicacy  of  the  spring  of  man's 
age  ;  to  taste  the  fragrance  of  adventure  ;  to  hear  the  music  of  young 
love  ;  to  know,  in  short,  the  beauty  of  this  world  before  its  colors 
begin  to  fade  in  the  eyes  of  age.  This  is  his  purpose  throughout  the 
first  portion  of  a  romance  that  is  intensely  picturesque  and  always 
charming. 


The  Sin  of  George  Warrener 

By  MARIE  VAN  VORST 

Author  of"  Miss  Desmond,"  "  Amanda  of  the  Mill,"  etc. 

Cloth  i2mo  $1.50 

Her  new  novel,  "  The  Sin  of  George  Warrener,"  is  a  study  of  life 
and  manners  among  a  circle  of  people  in  one  of  the  suburbs  of  New 
York. 

The  story  is  realistic  and  human,  dealing  with  the  conditions  created 
by  modern  ambitions  under  the  conditions  created  by  existing  social 
and  commercial  standards. 

Its  theme  is  interesting  and  handled  fearlessly,  and  in  a  way  which 
only  a  writer  of  long  experience  and  devotion  to  her  art  dares  to 
attempt. 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

64-66  FIFTH  AVENUE,   NEW  YORK 


MRS.    DARRELL 

By   FOXCROFT   DAVIS 

Author  of  "  Despotism  and  Democracy" 

With  Illustrations  by  William  Sherman  Potts 
Cloth      J2mo     $1.50 

"  Mrs.  Darrell "  is  a  penetrating  bit  of  analysis  in  the  form  of  an 
exceptionally  good  story  of  the  social  side  of  high  political  life  in  the 
national  capital. 

Its  very  genuine  people  are  sketched  with  a  light  touch,  a  delicacy 
of  expression,  that  makes  the  book  enjoyable  reading.  Those  who 
know  the  city  well  enough  to  recognize  the  unerring  accuracy  of  even 
its  minor  details  will  wonder  over  the  skill  which  has  produced  such 
real,  interestingly  varied  types.  It  is  full  of  highly  diverting  humor 
without  a  trace  of  satirical  sting;  on  the  contrary,  its  prevailing  tone 
is  refreshingly  wholesome. 


A   DARK   LANTERN 

A  Story  with  a  Prologue 

By  ELIZABETH  ROBINS   (C.  E.  RAIMOND) 

Author  of  "  The  Magnetic  North,"  "  Below  the  Salt,"  etc. 

Cloth      12mo     $1.50 

This  new  book  is  one  that  must  appeal  very  strongly  to  those  who 
enjoy  the  novel  of  keen  social  analysis.  Its  pictures  of  English  and 
continental  society  are  as  graphic,  just,  and  authoritative  as  any  that 
have  appeared  in  fiction.  One  of  the  main  characters  is  a  young  Ger 
man,  whose  rank  at  once  excludes  him  from  the  privileges  of  common 
place  home  life  and  gives  him  the  unconscious  assumption  of  the 
overfe'ted  man  who  has  missed  the  tonic  of  hard  work.  Another  is 
the  young  specialist  in  "nerves,"  accurate  to  the  verge  of  brutality, 
driven  to  misogyny  by  the  trivial  aggravations  of  encountering  most 
often  the  vague  indecisions  he  hated  most.  And  between  them  stands 
Katharine  Dereham,  a  character  of  strong,  unforgettable  appeal  to  the 
woman  who  looks  on  modern  social  life  with  open  eyes. 


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64-66  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York 


